Peer Into my World
by ThatPurplyThing
Summary: An aspiring filmmaker and orphan, 14 year old Raivis keeps to himself, believing nobody will ever understand him and his work. He is soon adopted by Ivan, a kind but mysterious man. Ivan is hiding secrets from him, and Raivis is determined to understand them. AU
1. Chapter 1

**This is an AU story of mine that I have been writing for a while. There isn't any actual shipping in it, so don't expect a lot of romance. Updates will also not be as frequent, as this summer, I will be in California for at least a month, so most certainly no updates then. But maybe I can get a few chapters done before I go.**

**Human names are used, but hopefully it's fairly obvious who is who.**

**Summary: An aspiring filmmaker and orphan, 14 year old Raivis keeps to himself, believing nobody will ever understand him and his work. He is soon adopted by Ivan, a kind but mysterious man. Ivan is hiding secrets from him, and Raivis is determined to understand them.**

* * *

"I finally found one!" cheered Peter as he wheeled the grocery cart down to the end of the cul de sac, "I've been wheeling this around all day for you!"

Raivis took a look at the cart, and grinned cooly, examining the rusty vehicle with one of his hands, "Excellent work. Where'd you find it?"

"I found it in the alley behind my brother's coffee shop." smiled Peter proudly. Since he was so strong, pushing this thing five whole blocks was no kind of a challenge.

"Well, you saved me time for finding one myself. This one's a little rusty, but it'll do." observed Raivis, as he started pushing the cart the other direction. Peter raised an eyebrow, "Wait, what are you doing now?"

"I'm taking it to the next street over. So then I can film the action scene while it's still light out."

"Can I come?" asked Peter excitedly.

"I actually need you for this part. So of course." nodded Raivis, as he continued to wheel the cart forward.

Peter gave an exuberant grin, his sea-blue eyes wide and shining in the sun. The nine-year old saw Raivis as his idol, and his best friend, despite the five-year age difference. He thought Raivis was one of the coolest kids he'd ever met, and was always willing to help him with his film projects, or watch them intently. Raivis thought Peter was a little annoying sometimes, but but he didn't really mind it. It kind of felt good to have someone younger look up to him. So he wasn't always alone. And everything fit. Peter's family was always busy, and Raivis had no family at all.

Raivis was simply an orphan.

When they finally reached the edge of the other street, Raivis hopped into the cart, and unstrapped the camera from his satchel. He turned it on, and peered through it, making sure the lens was free of any dust or smudges. He drew his knees up to his chest, and set the camera firmly on top of them, like a tripod. Making sure the cart was not in sight of the lenses, Raivis smiled and said,

"Okay Peter, think you can push this cart with me in it?"

Peter nodded, and gripped the handle, "How fast do you want me to run?"

"As fast as you can, Space-boy."

"Space-boy? You mean, you want me to be the part in your film?"

"Sure. All you have to do is run around when I tell you. No lines or anything"

Peter smiled even wider. He had been asking Raivis if he could be part of the film he was making,_ Space-boy_. According to Raivis, it was about a boy who makes a rocket ship and flies to a forest planet to explore. And now he was filming the 'zoom' scene for when the rocket would take off.

"Am I gonna be famous?"

"Maybe. If I can get all the effects right, and convince all the critics to see my films."

Peter stared with stars in his eyes, and gave a soft, "Wow. How many films have you made anyway?"

"Three. One of them I used stop motion with foil puppets in the orphanage basement. It's actually kind of cool."

"I wanna see them!"

"I don't really show them to anyone...It's kind of a thing for me..." answered the other quietly.

"Oh." replied Peter sadly.

"But if I get this one done, you can see it!" reassured Raivis, "Now let's get back on track. When I say 'action', push this cart as _fast_ as you can. And don't stop until I say 'cut'."

"Alright!" affirmed Peter, jumping cheerfully into position.

Raivis positioned his camera again, and stared ahead intently, "Ready...set...action!"

Lucky for Raivis, Peter was first place in his class' track and field, and he shoved the cart forward at a shocking strength, bolting forward without slowing down.

The acceleration and the air blowing past Raivis made him feel so free, as he peered through his private dream world in the camera. He was no longer riding an abandoned grocery cart in the street, he was truly flying in space.

He was so caught in the flying, he almost forgot to say cut. He gave a squeal, and shouted, "Cut-cut-cut!"

Peter stopped almost immediately, and stopped the cart by jerking it back a little. As he stopped to catch his breath, Raivis laughed in pride of the moment, "That was_ great_! Let's do another take..."

Peter gasped for more breath, and held his thumbs up in affirmation. He turned his head when he heard a familiar voice call out, "Petey, time to come home!"

Peter's older brother Arthur was walking home from work, and waved for the boy to come over to him.

"I have to go now Raivis. Can we film more tomorrow?"

"I guess. If I go to the library tomorrow, I'll fix up the footage from today, and see if it needs to be perfected more."

Peter smiled once again, and ran to catch up with his brother. Raivis waved goodbye, and turning off his camera, put it back in his satchel. He then took hold of the cart, and wheeled it off the street, and another three blocks down, to where he lived...or survived.

* * *

The orphanage was not a terrible place. Raivis always made sure to explain that to people that he was not to be pitied because he lived in an orphanage. He was not abused, and he was not in risk of dying. But it was not a place that he would choose to live in as a home.

The woman who ran the orphanage, Mrs. Mendell truly was a kind person, and she looked out for the children there. Besides Peter, she was the only other person whom Raivis could believe in talking to. She had been his mother figure for most of his life. Raivis never knew his father, and his mother died of measles when he was three, only months after she had moved from Latvia to America. He was far too young to even remember her. But as soon as he was without family to take care of him, he was put in the orphanage.

As for the other children at the orphanage, Raivis was not overly fond of them. They were either indifferent to him, or they bullied him. They would pick on him for his size, his weight (he was very very skinny for a fourteen year old), his strange accent, and his dreams of filmmaking (they'd call him terrible names for it). More than once, one of them threatened to break his camera. And so Raivis never liked being around them.

They also made fun of Raivis' uncontrolled shaking. He couldn't help it. He was just born that way. He'd take treatments for it, but it never really did much. So they'd always call him 'Shaky-Cam'. That name wasn't hurtful, more as annoying.

He went up the stairs, and into his room, which he shared with four other boys. There were two bunk beds on opposite sides of the wall, and Raivis had one of the bottom ones. On the wall next to his bunk, he had a poster from Sundance Film Festival. He'd always dreamed of going one day, but he couldn't really afford to travel to Utah. Fare from New York to there would be killer. The other poster was of Stanley Kubrick, as a teen, posing with one of his first cameras. He was one of Raivis' idols, and one of the boy's impossible dreams was to meet the late filmmaker.

He sat on the bed, and put the camera down in front of him. He sighed, and looking at the poster, murmured,

"Someday, we'll make it there Stanley."

"Stanley? You actually talk to the poster? You named the stupid poster Stanley?" scoffed his bunkmate, climbing onto the top bunk with a loud thump.

"I didn't name the poster, the guy in the poster's name is Stanley Kubrick." informed Raivis with a frown, not addressing the other boy by name. If they didn't call him by his name, then he wouldn't call them theirs.

"Haha, wow, you have a gay crush on the guy or something? You're always talking to the poster."

"I do not have a 'gay crush' on him. He's my favorite filmmaker. He's dead anyway."

"Wow, that's dorky. Anyway, you're supposed to be downstairs for dinner. Maybe if you eat, you'll get some meat on your chicken bones."

Raivis glared, and didn't respond. He got up from his bed, and as he got out from under the bunk, his bunkmate slapped him in the back of the head with a whiny chuckle. Clenching his jaw, Raivis stomped out of the room, and downstairs.

Dinner was fairly simple; a small toasted cheese sandwich and tomato soup; A dish Raivis found to be appealing. He ate quietly, away from the other children. As soon as he finished, he walked by Mrs. Mendell, who greeted him kindly.

"How are you today, Raivis?"

"I'm fine, m'am." he smiled slightly, "I got some more filming done today."

Her wrinkled face smiled as she responded, "Oh, that's wonderful! And you'll be sure to show me your film once it's done, right?"

"Mhm." nodded the boy, as he went back upstairs. He always told her he'd show her his films, but he never did. Whenever she asked when she could see them or if she could, he said as soon as they were complete, and he'd always say that there was one last thing to finish, or something wasn't right with it, or that he moved onto another project before he finished it. As much as he trusted the elderly woman, he didn't show anyone his films. He knew they wouldn't understand them. He wasn't even sure if Peter would understand _Space-boy_.

When it was time for bed, Raivis put on his pajamas, and took his medicine from the little pill-counter he had bought, and crawled under the covers. Ignoring a jeering question from his bunkmate whether or not he was going to kiss his poster goodnight, Raivis sighed, and said to himself, quietly,

_Goodnight Stanley._

* * *

The next morning, Raivis walked over to the library, to use the computers there. The librarian there was usually really strict about cameras being brought in, but as Raivis began coming more often, she loosened up a little. '

He was more than glad that the computers there had a film editing program. It wasn't as top notch as After-Effects, or Dragon software, but it was fine if Raivis worked enough effort into it. He just hoped that if he could get into an important film school, he'd have opportunity to use professional tools.

As he edited the zoom scene, he added a violet-blue hue to overlay the environment. Then he added sounds and ambience of space and flying. As he melded it all in, he couldn't help but feel a grin spread on his face.

As he walked back the way he came, he walked into the Kirkland family's cafe. Peter was sitting at a chair, boredly playing with a plastic dinosaur. He saw Raivis, and pouted,

"Raivis, Arthur's being a jerk, and won't let me help you today!"

The older boy gave a curious look to his brother behind the counter, who replied, "He's being punished. This morning, he thought it would be a great idea to turn on all the soda taps and try and drink from them like a water fountain."

"Ah, I see." nodded Raivis. Arthur gave an small smile, and asked, "Would you like anything while you're here?"

Now that Raivis thought about it, he was thirsty. He nodded and said, "Can I have a bottle of grapefruit Izze, please?"

"Of course." nodded Arthur, who got one from behind the counter, "$1.50 please."

Raivis fished through his pockets, and found a dollar and six cents. He looked up apologetically to Arthur, "I'm 44 cents short...can I just take some water-"

"It's okay." smiled Arthur, handing him the drink, "You've been watching Petey almost every day this week, so I guess I can give a babysitter discount."

"Raivis is not my babysitter!" cried Peter indignantly, "He's my bestest friend in the world!"

The other two laughed a little, and with another thank you, Raivis left the cafe, opening his drink. He sipped on it, feeling rather satisfied. He walked across the street, to the public park, and sat under a tree, to enjoy the day.

As he finished his drink, and put the bottle down, he could hear snickers coming from up above. Before he could look up, two of the bigger boys from the orphanage leaped down from a branch, and smiled at him unpleasantly.

"Well lookie here! Shaky-cam is having a nice day out!"

One of the boys whisked his camera from out of his lap, and peered into it mockingly, "What do you even film with this anyway? Naked girls? I'd pay you if you'd do that. But when would you even get lucky?"

"Give it back." demanded Raivis, frowning into the other's acne ridden face.

"Or what?"

"I-I'll fight you!"

"Haha, really. I'd love to see that." sneered the other, grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him up.

"You really wanna fight?"

"Just give me back my camera." sighed Raivis once again, too tired to care if he'd get beat up or not.

"I asked you a question, polack. You gonna fight me?"

Raivis gave a dark look, about ready to punch the jerk, "What did you just call me?"

"Polack. What, does that _offend_ you?"

"It offends me." chimed in another voice, surprisingly soft. The boys turned around, to see a tall figure looming over them, staring straight at them with dark purple eyes, the same color as Raivis'.

"For one thing, the term 'Polack' is a derogatory term for the _Polish_.", answered the man with a thick accent slightly similar to Raivis', "This boy, judging by his accent, is from one of the Baltic nations. I am correct, da?", he asked addressing the shaking boy, who nodded a little.

"And second, I'd recommend that you'd give this young man his camera back, and keep your hands off of him. Immediately." the tall man chided darkly, still with that soft voice.

"O-Or what?" dared one of the bullies, voice slightly faltering.

The tall man smiled creepily, "I'd be more than glad to show you how to really fight. And I guarantee that you will not be the victor."

The bullies stared at each other, then at the man, and one of them defeatedly muttered, "Whatever.", before he hastily handed the camera back to Raivis, and walked off. The tall man watched them leave, and then looked back down to Raivis, still smiling, but warmly.

"You can stop trembling now, little one. I think I scared them off well enough."

"I-I can't help my trembling." replied Raivis, and when the man stared at him confusedly, he explained, "It's a medical condition."

"I see." nodded the man, who then asked, "That would make filming very difficult, wouldn't it?"

"Sometimes, yes." nodded Raivis shyly, "But I make my own tripods sometimes to keep it steady. I can't afford to buy one."

"Da, I understand." replied the man, "Well, anyway, I don't think those boys will be bothering you anymore. Do you need to be escorted home...?...um..."

"Raivis, sir...and um, I actually live nearby. Just a few blocks away."

"Oh alright. Nice to meet you Raivis. Take care of your camera."

Just as Raivis was about to leave, the man then asked, "By the way, would you happen to know where the children's orphanage is?"

Raivis nodded, and said very softly, "Um...yes...it's just three blocks from here..."

Without waiting for an answer, he ran off that way, leaving the tall, violet-eyed man with a confused look.

* * *

Every first Saturday morning of the month was adoption day. Where prospective parents could come and visit the children at the orphanage. Most kids looked forward to this day, but Raivis was rather indifferent to it. He had been at the orphanage for a long time, and didn't really see any point in it for him. All the parents would come in, and end up choosing one of the cute, smiling kids. Why would they ever want one who was small, skinny, and depressed looking?

He refused to be put in a foster home. He had been in three of them, and they were always a bad experience for him. He'd end up feeling out of place, but when he finally felt like he was part of a family, hed' have to leave...Besides, the last home he was in was a total nightmare. Those crazy fundamentalist zealots. They thought his interest in filmmaking was a 'work of the devil'. Which is why he ended up sneaking out at night, and running back to the oprhanage, much to Mrs. Mendell's dismay and sympathy.

And so, while most of the other kids hung around downstairs, talking to the adults, Raivis stayed up in his room, toying with his camera, or reading. Or drawing. Raivis loved to draw, and thought animation would be a fun field of work as well. After filming.

Since most of the children stayed downstairs, none of the parents ever thought of coming upstairs to the bedrooms. So Raivis never expected anyone to come see him that day. Mrs. Mendell was usually so busy taking care of the other kids on this day, she didn't have the time to make sure Raivis was down there. She did hope that he would be adopted someday, but she didn't want to pressure him into opening up.

Since these Saturdays were normally quiet, Raivis tuned out to the world. And he usually never heard anyone talk on this day. So he had a good reason to be startled when he heard a voice curiously say, "Well hello again."

Raivis turned, and as if fate couldn't get any stranger, it was the tall man from the park. His soft face was smiling a little.

"You never told me you lived here."

"I...I don't really tell people much."

"Ah." nodded the other man, who looked around, "This must be your room, da?"

"The other kids are downstairs if you want to talk to them."

"I know. But at the moment, I am talking to _you._ I came up here to see if there were any stragglers hiding." smiled the man, who took a look at the bunk beds, "These are quite a tight fit, aren't they?"

"Yes. It's okay, sir. You don't really have to talk to me. The other kids are a better fit I bet."

"What makes you think that?"

"I'm no blond and blue eyed child...well, I'm blond, but not the good blond. I'm not a rosy cheeked little kid. Which is probably what you want. I'm a sick-looking teen."

The man sighed, and with a sympathetic smile said, "I'm not picky. I don't care if the child looks perfect or not, I just want to know if it feels right. If I think it would be the right child for me."

The boy nodded unattentively, secretly wishing he could just hide alone in his bed. But the man bent over a little, and peered at the posters on the wall.

"You like Stanley Kubrick?"

Raivis nodded, "He's my favorite."

"What's your favorite film of his?"

"...Um...2001: A Space Odyssey. I like the shots it takes."

The violet eyed man nodded warmly, "I've seen 'A Clockwork Orange'. But it was a little too vicious for my tastes."

Raivis scrunched his nose a little, "That one's kind of overrated."

"Do you make any films?"

"Yes." nodded Raivis, flipping back to his book.

"What are they about?"

"...Nobody would really understand them."

The man had no reply. He just watched Raivis read his book. He then asked, "Which country are you from?"

"Latvia. I lived there for three years."

"Da. How many years have you lived here?"

"Eleven. Since my mom died."

The man's smile fell, as he gave a sad look, "Oh, I'm sorry."

Raivis didn't like pity, so he asked,"...Where are you from? You have an accent like mine."

"I am from Russia. Moscow, to be precise."

Raivis nodded.

The man then stood up to his normal height, "I think I will go talk to the woman downstairs for a minute. It's been nice to see you again Raivis. My name is Ivan Braginski. Have a good day."

Raivis gave another nod, not watching the man leave. He felt a little different now after talking to the strange man. What made it even more different was the fact that he had come upstairs. Parents usually never bothered going upstairs. If they did, they usually took one look at Raivis, and awkwardly turned around and left. Ivan, the man, he just came in and talked with him. He didn't even back away or anything.

And now the boy had more questions going through his head, the biggest being why some strange man from Russia was even in a New York orphanage. And why he even bothered.

That evening, when things couldn't have gotten any weirder, Mrs. Mendell came into Raivis' room, and smiled warmly,  
"Raivis, I have some wonderful news for you."

"Yes m'am?"

"Do you remember a nice man named Mr. Braginski coming up here to talk to you earlier today?", asked the old woman sweetly.

"Um...faintly, yes." nodded the boy, anticipating what she would say next with both excitement and reluctance. He knew what she might say, and he was saying to himself, _"Say it...say it...wait don't say it...no say it..."_

"Raivis dear, Mr. Braginski is going to adopt you."


	2. Chapter 2

When Raivis woke up, he wondered if he was still dreaming. Everything was still normal and routine, so it couldn't be completely real right?

It had been just a week ago, seven days since Raivis was given the impacting news that someone had chosen him, out of all other children to be adopted. Out of the other hundreds of children there, he was one of the few who would be leaving. Within three weeks, he would be on a plane to Russia, to a house and bed he could call his own, without other stupid kids bothering him. But within three weeks, he'd be in a country he'd never even seen, where people spoke in a language he didn't even know. Raivis almost refused to believe that it was real.

But Peter was still mad at him, so it was most definitely real.

The younger boy was understandably upset when he heard that Raivis was leaving. He had been hoping that he would be adopted, but he never wanted him to move so far away. And Russia was halfway across the earth. How would they film anything?

Peter was still ignoring Raivis, but the Latvian knew his little friend would miss him. And he wasn't afraid to admit he'd miss the kid too.

He walked to the cafe, and went inside, to find Peter sitting at the table, eating a banana muffin. The boy looked up, and immediately pouted, scooting his chair around the other way, so his back was facing Raivis.

Raivis rolled his eyes and sighed, "Don't tell me you're still mad."

"Well I am! Traitor!"

"Hey, it isn't my fault I was adopted. I'm not 100% happy either, but I'm willing to accept it."

"Well, you're not the one who's gonna lose their best friend."

Raivis gave a small smile, "I'll still keep in touch. And who said I wasn't going to be sad about leaving here?"

Peter said nothing, only giving a small 'hmf' and crossing his arms. He was such a kid.

Raivis smirked and said, "Fine. Have it your way then.", he then smiled as he sing-songed, "Guess I'll just have to recast Space-boy..."

Peter whirled his chair around, "Are you filming it?"

"Today and tomorrow, yes." decided Raivis, right then and there. He hadn't actually thought of filming until right that second. But he did have all the props and things he needed, and the weather was perfect for filming, so why not?

Peter hopped up from his chair, and asked with wide eyes, "Should I go get my space helmet?"

"Uhh...yeah..." shrugged Raivis. The younger boy immediately ran behind the counter of the cafe, and grabbed a toy space helmet. He put it on over his head, and asked, "How does it look?"

Raivis grinned, "Perfect."

* * *

As the cd was ejected from the computer, Raivis delicately raised it from the disc tray, and put it into a special case he had designed for his film. He had taken a picture of Peter in the space helmet, arms held out like an airplane, running up the steep forest hillside, which he had tinted a light periwinkle. The sky was cloudy and a light gray, leaving an overall 'blue' look. In bright white font, the title _Space-boy_ was scrawled primitively in a corner. Just how Raivis wanted it. He had spent the last three weeks on this, and it was perfect.

He was leaving tomorrow. At precisely 7 AM, the tall man, Mr. Ivan Braginski, would be by to pick him up, with a cab to take them to the airport, where they would fly halfway across the world to the home that Raivis was a stranger to.

Raivis wouldn't have time to say goodbyes in the morning, except for Mrs. Mendell. So he was making one final visit to the Kirkland family's cafe. He opened the door, enjoying the final welcoming jingle of the bells on the frame. As usual Peter sat at one of the tables, bored looking. But he looked busy too. He was scrawling on a piece of paper with a colored pencil. He looked up, and with large eyes warned, "Wait, don't come in here yet! I have to finish this!"

Raivis stepped back by the door, and tapped his foot a little against the linoleum corner by the entrance. He raised an eyebrow as Peter made another wild stroke, and folded the paper up into uneven fourths. He hurried over to Raivis, and held the wad up to him, "Here. Don't open it until you get home!"

Raivis smiled a little, and took the paper, "Thanks.", and stuck it in his pocket. He then looked at the CD in his hands. Peter looked at it curiously, "Is that _Space-boy_?"

The older boy nodded undecisively. Peter then asked excitedly, "Can I see it?"

"Actually..." started Raivis, chewing his lip a little, staring at the polished, self designed case in his ever trembling hands, "I want you to have it."

Peter's sea blue eyes shot open wide like a new flower in spring, and mouth agape, he exclaimed in a whisper, "Really?"

"Y-yes." nodded Raivis, smiling bittersweetly as he held the case out.

"B-but it's the final copy."

"I know. But I've got it on a drive too. So no worries.", shrugged Raivis. Even if he was giving Peter his special final print, he had the film itself saved onto a portable drive, so he could just make another case for it. And Peter had helped him so much for this, and even gave him a silly childish card, that he deserved to keep the film.

As Peter took it, staring at it like it was the Holy Grail, Raivis then requested, "Just keep it safe for me." _And don't show it to anyone...You're the only exception I'll probably ever make..._

The little boy stared up, his big blue eyes starting to water as he held his lip tight. _Oh God,_ thought Raivis, _He's going to start crying..._

Before he knew it, Peter launched himself forward onto the other, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He sniffed a little and said, "You're my best friend forever and ever!"

Raivis awkwardly hugged back, and smiled, "You're my friend too, Peter. I'll come back and visit, I promise."

And Raivis wasn't lying. Sure he found Peter annoying, but he was still his friend. And he would miss him so much.

Arthur came from behind the counter, and handed Raivis a large hot chocolate. With melancholy green eyes, he smiled, "It's on the house. We're gonna miss you, boy."

Raivis smiled, violet eyes showing sadness, as he nodded, "I'll miss you all too. Don't let Peter burn the town down before I come back to visit."

Arthur grimaced amusedly, "No promises there."

Before Peter could argue, Raivis chuckled, and gave him one last hug goodbye.

When Raivis returned to his room, with the hot chocolate half gone, he unfolded Peter's letter, and examined it. Most of it was childishly scrawled pictures, of what seemed to be dinosaurs and astronauts together. At least, that's what Raivis was guessing. Because they all beared a resemblance to potatoes. But in a small white space, scrunched between a triceratops and a rocket ship, was written,

_Raivis,_

_Thanks for being my friend. You're the coolest person ever._

_Peter_

* * *

The next morning, everything was very different. Mostly because all of Raivis' things were packed up in a large suitcase downstairs. His camera was in the satchel over his shoulder. His posters were rolled up and stored away. Raivis swore that he'd sue the airport if Stanley was wrecked. But now the wall by his bunk was blank. Everything just seemed so empty.

Raivis sat on his bunk, one last time. He shifted a little, and ended up sitting onto the part with the broken spring. The mattress sagged a little beneath him, cushioning him. He could feel the familiar blue flannel blanket under his fingers.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, and the crack in the plastic cover, right below the '4'. The hands pointed to 6:55. Time to go downstairs.

Getting off of his bed, Raivis walked towards the door, and turned around to look one last time. The other three boys he had shared this room with were still asleep. They wouldn't have to wake up for another hour.

Remembering all that they had done to him, and all the names that they had called him, Raivis decided that maybe he wouldn't miss too much of this place anyway. Standing in the doorframe, he grinned as he remembered a quote from one of the books he had read, _The Catcher in the Rye_, and he shouted it loud enough to spook the others awake before he ran downstairs,

"_Sleep tight, ya morons!_"

* * *

Heading downstairs, laughing to himself, Raivis entered the foyer of the orphanage. He'd miss this room, how it looked much like a cabin, with a fireplace and wood interior. He sat on one of the leather chairs, as he waited for Mrs. Mendell to come in.

The old woman stepped in quietly, and took a glance at Raivis. She smiled warmly, and commented, "We're going to miss you."

Raivis got up to hug her gently, and said genuinely, "I'm going to miss you too."

She then chuckled, "We'll keep our eyes out for you for next year's Sundance festival."

Raivis smirked back as he nodded, "I'll thank you all in my award speech."

They both laughed a little, and Raivis turned to glance at the man walking in. Ivan was wearing a earthy toned sweater, beige pants, and a pink scarf. Raivis noticed it was the same scarf he had worn when he saw him in the park, and on the adoption day.

"Well hello again.", smiled Ivan, walking up to Raivis, "Are you ready to go?"

Raivis nodded quietly, and gave one last hug to Mrs. Mendell, who was fishing for a kleenex to dab her eyes with. Giving a wave to her, he walked by Ivan, as they both headed out the door for the last time.

* * *

Wishing he hadn't packed his filming items away, Raivis gazed out the cab window intently, trying to archive in his head the town he had grown so familiar with, and that he was now leaving. Ivan was looking out the other window, taking in the scenery as well. But both their scopes of view were very different, as Ivan watched everything purely out of interest, and Raivis did it out of fear of forgetting his home. The cab drove past the Kirklands' cafe, and Raivis noticed the lights were out. When the cafe opened at 8 that morning, he knew he wouldn't be there.

Airport security was fairly quick to get through, and the baggage check line was nearly empty. The flight was at 9:00, and it was only 7:45. Ivan had gotten them seats by their gate, right by the window . Raivis stared out at the runway, as another plane was rolling by on the ground. He gazed in curiousity and confusion at how they could work.

Ivan noticed the look on his face, and asked, "You're not afraid of flying are you?"

Raivis shook his head, "No sir."

And he was telling the truth. He wasn't afraid, because he didn't actually know what it was like. The last time he was on an airplane was when his mother was alive, and he was only three. So he didn't remember the experience at all.

"That's good. It's a long flight, so it's rather easy to get cabin fever."

Raivis nodded. He wasn't too worried though. On a ten hour flight, he could just take a nap and pass the time.

Ivan then reached into his carry-on, "That reminds me. The woman at the orphanage told me you liked to draw, so I got you a sketch-pad you can use if your bored. And some pencils."

Ivan then pulled out a good sized used spiral book full of watercolor paper, and a small blue box of graphite pencils. Some were worn down, but were still in good shape.

Raivis looked at the pencils, "Woah, these are good quality..."

Ivan smiled, "I like to draw myself. I like to make watercolor pictures sometimes."

The boy nodded, and packed the pencils and book into his own bag, "Thank you."

Ivan nodded, and looked around, "We still have some time before we have to board. Would you like something to eat?"

Raivis shook his head, "I'm not hungry."

The other shrugged, "I'd recommend you'd at least eat something. The flight is long, and in my opinion, the food is like cardboard."

Raivis responded, "It's okay. I've lived at the orphanage long enough to enjoy things that taste like that."

Ivan laughed, and affectionately rubbed the boy's hair. He then asked,

"Out of curiosity, do you speak Latvian?"

"N-not really." admitted Raivis, cheeks red. Just because he was from that country, that didn't mean he knew everything about it. Especially since he had barely been able to talk when he lived there.

Raivis then asked, "Do you speak Russian?"

"Yes." nodded Ivan, "Quite well. But I will speak English more often, if it is easier for you to understand."

"Do other people speak English where you live?"

"Some do, some don't. Mostly everyone speaks Russian. I can translate for you if you need to understand something."

He then tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair, "But most of the schools there teach in Russian."

Raivis swallowed hard, and paled slightly. Here was the predicament: He would potentially end up going to a school where everyone was speaking a language he couldn't even understand. He would be the new foreign kid, and with his skinny build and interest in filming, it wasn't like he was going to be left alone.

Ivan then patted his head again, "Don't worry, I'll teach you a little before I send you off to school, so you'll be homeschooled for a while. Really all you need to know is 'hello', 'goodbye', 'thank you', and 'may I use the bathroom'."

_And 'don't kill me please'._, thought Raivis to himself. Remembering schooling back at the orphanage, he could only imagine what he would be put through in an actual classroom.

A few minutes later, Ivan's cell phone buzzed, and the man excused himself to take the call. Raivis decided to take out the sketchbook Ivan gave him, and the pencils. When he opened it though, he found that some of the pages already had pictures on them. Three to be exact. And Raivis had to admit that they were amazing.

The first one was of a sunflower field, golden patches on the ground, as a cold gray sky appeared above it, as if impending winter was seeping in. The second was a pencil sketch of a pocket watch with it's hatch opened, with slight coloring. The intricate detail on the watch, the chain, and the clockface was pretty impressive. The final picture was of St. Basil's Cathedral, colored in grayscale. The sky was made to look dark, and the ground reflected streetlights above it, as if the ground was wet from rainfall.

Raivis' eyes widened as he viewed these, impressed by the detail and care put into each picture. Did Ivan make these?

The tall man returned back to his seat with a strangely disturbed look. Raivis turned to him and asked, "Are you ok?"

Ivan nodded, smiling a little, "I'm fine."

Raivis was still a little curious since he looked upset, but he decided to then ask, still amazed by the drawings, "Did you draw these?"

Ivan gazed at them, and murmured under his breath, "I thought I took them all out...", then smiled bigger, "Yes. Painting is a bit of a hobby of mine."

Raivis' gave a wide eyed look, and commented, "These are really _good_."

Ivan smiled again, "Spasibo."

The boy tilted his head confused, "Huh?"

"Oh, I mean thank you. Sorry I tend to thank people in Russian more than I do in English. Just a habit of mine."

"It's alright, Mr. Braginski."

"Little one, you don't need to call me that. You may call me Ivan if you wish. 'Mr. Braginski' makes me feel like I'm old. I'm only 29. I'm not even close to my forties."

Raivis bit his lip, "Sorry, Mr. Bra-oops."

Ivan laughed a little, and looked at his watch. It was about time to board the plane.

* * *

They got onto the plane fairly quickly, only getting to their seats later because an old, barely mobile woman was shifting her walker down the aisle a little faster than molasses could melt.

Raivis sat by the window, and he peered out to the runway, to see the airport workers loading luggage onto the plane. He saw his suitcase being lifted by one of the men, and slapped down onto the conveyor belt. When he saw the impact of the suitcase slamming onto the belt, Raivis could feel his hand clench the armrest with an unnatural strength. If any of his things were dented, _there would be blood_. This was a phrase Raivis liked to use. Especially since he saw the film with the same title.

Soon enough, they were airborne. The boy stared out the window, watching as the aircraft soared thousands of feet up, shrinking the world below him. He turned away, feeling uneasy at the notion of being so high up, and he closed his eyes.

And it turns out, Ivan was right. It was too easy to get cabin fever on a flight like this. There was a lot of turbulence during the flight, making it difficult for Raivis to draw. Especially since he trembled so much anyway, the extra shaking made it near impossible to draw a good line.

He cursed under his breath. Ivan turned, hearing the boy swear. Raivis looked up, and sheepishly apologized. Ivan simply smirked and said, "Are you having a hard time drawing?"

Raivis nodded. Ivan sifted through his carry-on, and pulled out an old CD player, and a little booklet to hold CDs.

"Would you like to use my CD player instead?"

"Wouldn't you get bored?"

"Not really." shrugged Ivan, "I think I want to take a nap anyway. If you listen to music, it might help you doze off too."

Raivis nodded, and took the CD player, "Thank you."

He flipped through the booklet of CDs. Most of them were of Russian music, judging by the Cyrillic font on them. But some were of artists Raivis knew or could at least recognize; Billy Joel, Electric Light Orchestra, Simon and Garfunkel (Ivan actually knew about them?), The Beatles, and David Bowie. Grinning at the last choice, Raivis popped in the CD, and soon, the familiar tune of "Changes" was ringing in his head. He bopped his head a little to the music, making Ivan chuckle, as discreetly watched his adopted son.

Sometime later, in the final hours of the flight, as they both ate the soup served on the flight (or what could be called an excuse for soup, because even Raivis agreed it was terrible), Raivis then decided to ask, "What do you work as?"

"Children's psychologist.", said Ivan plainly. Raivis gave him a look, and he explained, "Specifically in autism. I work with children who are autistic."

He then turned to Raivis with a smirk, "So no, I'm not adopting you for psychological research, if that's what you're thinking."

Raivis nodded. Okay, that was good, he wasn't being part of some project. Yet if Ivan was a psychologist, maybe he'd be more understanding with him? He then asked, raising his eyebrow, "Are you religious?"

"Not really, no.", shrugged Ivan, not even asking why Raivis was wondering that. Raivis grinned.

He was already starting to like Ivan.


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was a dark purple when the plane finally landed. Even though Raivis was dead exhausted, and the sky looked dusky, Ivan insisted that it was at least 6 AM. The ground was wet from rainfall, but since the plane had been so high above the clouds, nobody really knew it.

Raivis trailed groggily behind Ivan as they walked off the plane to the gate's exit, and headed for the baggage claim. The boy was anxious to get his suitcase, and make sure those idiots who handled his luggage on the way over didn't damage his belongings.

The wait for all their luggage took an entire hour, which irritated them both. When it seemed that all the luggage had been returned, and Raivis' suitcase wasn't found, Ivan actually cursed in Russian, and told the boy to wait at a nearby bench while he went to talk to the front desk.

Ivan came back three minutes later, his face red with embarrassment. He quietly spoke to Raivis, "Wrong baggage claim..."

Both of them quietly went to the other claim, and sure enough Raivis' suitcase was there, waiting on the ground. The Russian man sheepishly picked it up, and he led Raivis outside, to the airport parking garage.

"Here's my car." smiled Ivan brightly.

Ivan's car was kind of a sad sight. It was a very old model. Raivis didn't know much about cars, but even he knew this junk heap was a dinosaur. The blue color of it was very worn, scraped patches everywhere, and there was a good-sized dent on the back. And one of the taillights was cracked.

"It's...it's um..." started Raivis, trying to find appropriate words.

"It's a piece of junk, I know." smirked the Russian, "I've been trying to fix it, but it's near impossible now. It's too old. But it still drives well."

He then opened the trunk, which creaked slightly, and placed Raivis' suitcase in it. The boy's eyes then widened, "Wait!"

Ivan raised an eyebrow, "Hm?"

"I-I want to make sure everything in my suitcase is okay!"

"Okay..." agreed Ivan with an uncertain tone. He backed up so the boy could get over his luggage, and open it. It popped open with a 'sproing', as Raivis dug through his heap of clothes. And sure enough his posters and camera equipment were still in there. He gave a sigh of relief, and closed the trunk.

He then turned around with a smile, looking up to Ivan's confused face, "I don't trust people to handle my stuff without me."

His adopted father gave a small nod, still looking confused. He then pulled out his car keys, to unlock the car.

Raivis walked over to the passenger side- or at least what he thought was the passenger side- and looked up to Ivan, who had an amused smile.

"Raivis, do you know how to drive?"

"Um...no..."

"Are you planning to drive us home?"

"What do you-" started the boy, who then peered through the window, and saw the steering wheel on his side. As he gave a confused look, Ivan laughed.

"You've definitely never seen a European car, by the looks of it. The passenger door is over here, little one."

Raivis gave a slightly embarrassed smile as he switched places with Ivan. Ivan unlocked the car, and they opened the doors to climb in. As they strapped in, Raivis then asked,

"Did you actually leave your car here for a whole month?"

"Oh, no I was only in America for four days. When I first met you, and planned to adopt you, I flew back here for some time, to get things settled and ready, and then I flew back to pick you up. A lot of travel goes into this kind of stuff."

Raivis nodded sleepily, and Ivan smiled. He then said quietly, "Well, let's be off then. It's a two hour drive to Moscow from here, and it's going to be long..."

* * *

They had only been driving for about thirty minutes, when Raivis got bored. He couldn't fall asleep in the bumpy, clanking vehicle, and the radio, as Ivan had observed was as good as broken. Nothing but static.

The boy then decided to break the silence in the car, even if only for a moment. He couldn't stand silence for two whole hours in an enclosed space.

"Are you married, Ivan?" he asked curiously. The Russian shook his head, "No. And I don't have a girlfriend either."

He gave a good humored grin, and chuckled, "I'm one sad, lonely bachelor."

Raivis didn't respond, and so Ivan cleared his throat and said more reassuringly, "I live in a good neighborhood. You'll make friends."

The boy really hoped that Ivan was telling the truth. He could believe the claim that the neighborhood was nice, but not exactly the part about making friends. Raivis was going to be the weird foreign kid in other people's eyes. And he didn't even know how many friends Ivan had. It would be rude to ask. But since the Russian had a beat up, broken down car, and slightly awkward ways of making conversation (from what Raivis had observed), he could only hope that he wasn't going to be an outcast completely.

But he had to admit, he was starting to like Ivan. He was friendly, he was open, he was a talented artist, and he had a very promising job. So even if the man was a little awkward, life with him perhaps wouldn't be unbearable.

In his head, Raivis thought of the names he might end up calling Ivan in the future. For now, he just called him 'Mr. Braginski' (well, not anymore) or 'Sir', or 'Ivan' (if he felt daring). He tried to imagine himself calling him 'Dad' or 'Father', or something like that. But it just seemed too weird.

He was secretly glad that Ivan wasn't married, or dating a woman. Then he'd have to end up calling someone 'Mother', and he really didn't want to do that. He had a mother, and she was dead. He didn't remember what she looked like or what she was like, but he could remember saying the word 'mama' as a baby whose overall vocabulary was limited. He never had a father in his life, and never called anyone that, so that spot was potentially open for Ivan. But he could never call someone his mother when he knew they were not entitled to it.

After some more driving, Raivis innocently commented, "So I guess you don't have any other children."

Ivan paused, and his eyes gazed at the road, with an uncertain emotion in them. Perhaps sadness? He softly replied, "No...I do not."

He then glanced at a sign on the road, and changing his mood immediately, said, "We're about an hour away. Do you want to stop anywhere and eat?"

Raivis shook his head. He was still groggy from the long flight. Ivan shrugged, "I guess that's not the best idea if you have jet lag..."

The boy nodded in agreement, and lay his head against the window, feeling the clunky vibrations of the car as it went along the road. That was when he tuned out. He didn't fall asleep, he just shut off to the public world, and entered his own. He could see the sun through his eyelids, leaving an intense yellow glow. He was not in the car anymore, not with the bumpy driving, or Ivan. He was just alone.

Until he could hear a soft voice call to him, "Raivis?"

He blearily opened his eyes, and found himself face to face with Ivan. The man was smiling softly, with a bit of an amused glint in his eyes.

It was at that moment, that Raivis realized the car had stopped. He looked out the window confusedly, as Ivan gently informed, "We're here."

* * *

The car was parked in a driveway, slightly slanting upwards. The Latvian looked out his window, and saw a house. Not just a normal house. It was a good sized one. It looked to be at least two stories, or maybe three if there was an attic or basement. Smoky gray brick and wood paneling supported the building, and there was a couple windows with the blinds down. A burgundy stained door was at the front, with a crystal panel window on the top of it. There was a front yard, with a simple garden of small flowers, but what stood out the most was the sunflowers. They were everywhere. Some were in pots on the porch, some grew naturally in the garden, by the walkway, and there was a few windowboxes of tiny ones. The mailbox at the end of the walk even had a large metal sunflower on it, and at least four tiny sunflowers, handpainted on it. Raivis wouldn't have been surprised if he started to sneeze (he was allergic to pollen).

"You...you really like sunflowers..." he said, unsure of what he was gazing at.

Ivan nodded sheepishly, fiddling with an end of his scarf, "Da...they...they are my favorite flower. They are quite special to me."

Raivis could only nod, and noticed the other was unbuckling his seatbelt. He did the same, and they exited the car. Ivan opened the trunk to his car, and pulled out the suitcase, carrying it up the walk. He glanced back, making sure Raivis was still behind him. Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a key, and inserted it into the lock. He opened the door, and gestured for Raivis to walk in. He followed behind with the suitcase, and closed the door, locking it securely.

The foyer was very casual for a home, with wood tiles on the floor. A couple pairs of well used boots and shoes were by a coatrack on one side of the door. A vase of orange-yellow sunflowers sat on a end table. A doorway led to a hallway with soft white carpeting. Paintings, most likely by Ivan, were decorating the wall. But a few uneven spaces were on the wall too, as if pictures once there were taken down.

At the end of the hallway was the living room, very nice and clean looking. But on the left of the hallways end was a set of stairs leading down to the basement. Ivan smiled, "It's nice and clean down there, so if you ever want to use it as a film studio, you may."

Ivan pointed out where the kitchen and bathrooms were, and led Raivis up another set of stairs, to another hallway. He led him to a door, and opened it, revealing a small bedroom. It was good-sized in Raivis' view, since he had always lived in a crammed room with three obnoxious boys he never bothered to name. A window opened view to the woods behind Ivan's house, as sun filtered through the trees. And a small bed with a comfy looking blanket lay by the window. A desk and chair were next to the adjacent wall.

"Is this my room?" smiled Raivis, pleased with the solitude it might offer him. Ivan nodded with a smile.

"Let me show you the backyard, and then I will make us lunch, da?"

Raivis nodded, and as they left the room, he noticed another door in the hall, beside Ivan's bedroom and a bathroom. The door was a very light shade of purple, near white even. It was closed shut, not like the other rooms which were open and welcoming. Curiously, he asked "What's in that room?"

Ivan gave a soft, disturbed glance towards the door, and he murmured, "Nothing. You don't need to go in there. You can't go in there."

The soft tone Ivan gave this time was different, observed Raivis. It was almost unnerving, and unnaturally creepy. Along with the look on his face. Instead of a smile, as Raivis usually noticed, there was a grimace. Was there something about that door that he wasn't supposed to know about? Shrugging it off, he followed Ivan down the stairs to the back door by the living room.

The backyard itself was very spacious and wild looking. It led to no fences, just a wide frontier of forest and grass. Raivis grinned as he thought of the endless possibilities for filming in such a place.

Ivan grinned back, and asked, "You like it?"

The boy nodded with a bit of eagerness. The tall man laughed and patted him gently on the shoulder, "Let me go fix lunch for us."

Lunch was very different from the past meals Raivis ate at the orphanage. Instead of mass produced meals provided for the half-way houses, it was a homecooked product.

Ivan hummed childishly as he stirred a rich red broth in a pot on the stove. He glanced to Raivis, who sat at the kitchen table, gazing out a window, "Have you ever had borscht?"

"I don't even know what that is?" admitted the boy with a sheepish murmur. Ivan gave a bob of his head and explained, "It's beet soup with meat and vegetables. Kind of like what they served us on the flight. Only, mine is much better, I assure you. And there's sour cream with it. Do you like sour cream?"

Raivis gave a shrug, "I'll eat anything."

Ivan nodded, "Alright, but if you don't like it, you can let me know, and I can fix you something else."

The boy shook his head in agreement, and stared down at the bowl of soup just placed in front of him by Ivan. He stared at it questionably, and dipping his spoon in, took a tentative taste. He raised his eyebrows. It was delicious. Very rich and flavorful.

He took another mouthful, and smiled, "This is amazing!"

Ivan gave a happy smile as he tucked into his own soup. At least the boy liked his cooking, that was good.

After another bite Raivis asked, "Where did you learn to cook?"

The man gave a little chuckle, and he replied, "I just practiced. Since I live alone, it's my own responsibility to make my own food."

"Do you make this soup a lot?"

"Da, it's fairly easy to make. I also tend to make a lot of meat and vegetable dishes too."

Ivan got up and opened his fridge, and peered inside, "I hope you like rabbit. And I don't mean as a pet."

Raivis shrugged, "I've never had it."

"Then I'll fix some for dinner tonight, so you can try it." smiled the Russian as he closed the fridge door, and took their empty bowls from the table and washed them in the sink. Raivis looked up at him and asked, "Can I go put my camera stuff in the basement?"

"Da. Would you like any help?"

"I think I can do it. Nothing's too heavy."

"Alright then." nodded Ivan, as he put away the clean dishes, "If you need anything, please let me know."

Raivis walked to the foyer, where they had left his suitcase and carry-on. Unlatching them, he pulled out the camera tripod, and the camera case itself. He then walked to the steps leading to the basement, one of the items in each of his hands. As he made it down the first few steps, he realized how steep and narrow they were.

As he took another step, his socks were slick against the carpet, and his foot shuffled. He jolted a little, and gave an awkward cry of shock, but thankfully he didn't fall. He leaned against the railing to catch his breath, and he could hear footsteps. Ivan peered over the banister, a worried look on his face, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah..." laughed Raivis nervously, "I just slipped, I'm fine."

Ivan nodded, "Just be careful then, those stairs are steeper than you'd think."

Raivis shakily shook his head in agreement back as he continued down the stairs, and opened the door at the end of the hall. The basement, as Ivan said, was definitely very clean. But it was also pretty empty. It was simply a large one room space, with a concrete floor, and a couple windows to bring in a little light. A door on the opposite wall led to the backyard. A collapsable table sat against one of the walls, as well as some empty tupperware containers.

Raivis grinned his cool, inspired smirk once again. This was going to be perfect. The basement was fairly lit, and it had so much space. This would be a fantastic place to make stop motion, and effects for his films. And if Ivan let him, maybe he could use the tupperwares to store stop motion pieces and his equipment.

Feeling optimistic about the possibilities, he put his camera bag on the desk, and the tripod against the table. He then turned around to leave but saw Ivan walk in, smiling a little. He gazed around, "It's nice and empty isn't it? The lady at the orphanage told me you liked to film in their basement, so I cleared a little space here for you. It might not be like the orphanage's but I hope it's good enough."

The boy grinned, "It's even better."

* * *

The day went by pretty slowly, as Raivis explored the rest of the house (sans the room behind the lilac door), and Ivan had eventually excused himself to work on filling out papers regarding his work. Raivis wanted to ask him more about his job, but he knew he was busy. So he decided to take his camera, and go explore the backyard.

Filming as he walked along, Raivis took a second to stop and zoom in the lens as he prepared to walk into the woodsier part. He had asked Ivan if he could, and he said yes, as long as he stayed in view of the house. That was simple enough for Raivis, especially since he learned to navigate through strange places all his life.

Sun filtered through the trees and thin wild grasses, the sky white with clouds. The ground was damp and dark from the previous rainfall, and a fresh smell was in the air. Altogether, the moment was very natural, and quiet. This would be a perfect place for Raivis to just escape to; for him to form ideas, or to just relax and escape reality. Back home, the only place he could do that was his room, when the other boys were gone. There was nothing but the posters on the wall. He was alone and in his own world, his own private world. The one of his dreams, his rights, his wrongs, and his words.

A short time later, Raivis turned around, and saw that he was a considerably far distance from the house, so he headed back. When he went back inside, Ivan was still writing out papers, and typing down some notes onto his laptop. He looked up to Raivis apologetically, "I've been getting a little behind on my work. Don't think I'm ignoring you."

"I understand." replied Raivis quietly, as he peered at what Ivan was writing. He didn't understand any of it, not comprehending all the complicated documents and words written on it (especially since most of it was in Russian). But as complicated as it was, Raivis was still curious as to what it all was for and what it all meant. It was something he wanted to understand.

Some time later, Ivan finished his paperwork and began to make dinner. And sure enough, Raivis was once again surprised by how good the food tasted. He had never eaten rabbit before, and it was surprisingly very tasty. He could perhaps get used to this country quicker than he expected.

As they ate, Ivan commented, "I was thinking that I could take you to the town tomorrow, to show you around. You could see St. Basil's cathedral, and bring your camera."

"A cathedral? I thought you weren't religious."

"I know. I'd just want to show you the outside of it. Have you ever seen pictures of this one? Or heard of it?"

Raivis shook his head, and with a chuckle, Ivan commented, "It's the building that looks kind of like a castle, and it has those onion shaped domes. It's quite famous"

The Latvian raised his eyebrows, "Oh! I know what you're talking about. That...thing. With the...domes."

As Ivan laughed even more, Raivis realized he'd have to learn more about Russian culture. He'd been living in New York for far too long.

* * *

Later that evening, after some more idle conversation, Raivis was tired enough to go to bed, in his own room. When he had brushed his teeth, and put on his pajamas, he took his posters and hung them up on the wall against his bed, just like how they were at the orphanage. Ivan came upstairs and peeked into Raivis' room, and asked with a good humored tone, "Posters are up already?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must really like them."

"I've had them for a while. They're kind of my equivalent of baby pictures."

Ivan nodded softly. And Raivis wasn't really exaggerating. They pretty much _were_ his baby pictures. Since he didn't actually have any. He never got any after his mother's death, and he never knew if she took any. The orphanage didn't snap a photo of him until he was six. He had these posters for as long as he could remember. So they were pretty special.

Noticing the slightly sad look on Ivan's face (what was he sad about anyway?), Raivis then smiled, and spoke quietly, "Thank you, sir."

Ivan rolled his eyes, "Formal as always, aren't we? Remember what I said about calling me 'Mr. Braginski'? For the sake of my youth, call me Ivan, little one."

"Alright, sorry. Goodnight Ivan."

"Goodnight, Raivis. Sleep well." smiled Ivan kindly, as he left to his own room.

Laying back on his pillow, Raivis looked over to his posters. The light from the hallway made it easy to see them. He could make out Stanley Kubrick's young, self confident smirk from behind his camera.

Raivis smiled back, and curled up under the soft blankets, falling asleep fairly quickly.

Ivan sat on the edge of his bed, putting his pajamas on. He thought of the moments that made him smile that day, talking to his new son, and showing him his new home for the first time. But he also couldn't stop thinking of that one memory, the memory he wished to repress. Raivis had asked about the door. The one he wasn't going to let him open. He wished he could get rid of the door and the room altogether, but it wouldn't do any good. He knew it had to stay there...it just had to.

But still, Ivan was happy that the day had gone well for the most part. Tomorrow would be even better, his mind told him. He couldn't let his worries get in the way. Raivis was happy, and that mattered the most.

And soon, both the Latvian and Russian were deeply slumbering, leaving the house quiet in the dark of night.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So the blackout is over, and I removed the notice regarding it. **

**I'd also like to acknowledge an error made in the last chapter. I thought the Russian roads were switched like those in the UK, but they are actually not. But because such a nice snippet was made out of that info, I'm keeping it in.**

* * *

The bed was too warm and welcoming when Raivis woke up. It was already 9:15, but he was still drowsy and comfortable in the cocoon of blanket. He curled up tighter, and shut his eyes again, trying to block out the sunlight filtering through his window, and onto his face. But at the knowledge that it was morning, his drowsiness was already dying. He tried to make his mind go blank, in hope of a mere three minutes of sleep, but it was too late. Yawning, he sat up, and stretched his back. Blinking a few time, he got off of the bed, and felt the fuzzy carpet under his toes. It wasn't like the tile floor in New York, which required him to wear socks if he didn't want to freeze his feet.

Walking slowly and heavily into the hall, he headed for the bathroom. As he passed Ivan's room, the Russian man opened the door, and smiled to the boy. He was dressed in a bluish-purple patterned sweater and khaki pants. There was a green towel around his shoulders, lumping off his pink scarf (did he ever take it off?). His hair was slightly damp from a shower.

"Well I'm glad to see you're finally up. Do you need to take a shower?"

"Uhhhm...uhuh..." nodded Raivis, as a heavy yawn stifled his answer. Ivan laughed, and patting the boy's head affectionately said, "Go on ahead. There's some towels in the cabinet in there. I'll make breakfast while you get ready."

"Okay." replied Raivis softly, blinking his eyes as they got teary from his still morning-weary state. He walked steadily to the bathroom, and unbuttoned his blue flannel nightshirt. He turned on the shower, the knob giving a little squeak as the droplets began to sprinkle down like heavy rain. Before Raivis took off his pajama bottoms, he went over to the bathroom counter and mirror. Some shaving supplies lay in a corner. Raivis peered into the mirror, and stroked his chin. Not a single hair. He frowned a little in annoyance. He was fourteen, and he still had no sign of stubble or growth. The only sign that he was going through puberty was the voice cracks, and those only proved annoying. Raivis just really hoped that he would get facial hair before acne, and looking even more like a complete dork.

He took off the rest of his clothes, and headed back over to the shower, almost excited to hit the supposedly warm water.

Ivan was getting out the ingredients for porridge when he heard a shrieking yell from upstairs. It scared the living daylights out of him, making him drop the dried fruit onto the floor.

Meanwhile, Raivis was shivering violently outside the shower, eyes boggled out. He swore he could see little ice particles growing on his body.

Ivan apologized once again as Raivis, clad in a too-big bathrobe (he borrowed from Ivan), helped him pick up the dried currants on the kitchen floor.

"I should have warned you about the shower. The pipes tend to freeze up in the morning, so hot water is kind of limited. I must have used it all up by accident. Sorry."

Raivis realized this country would be harder to adapt to than he thought.

* * *

After breakfast, the two walked out the door, to go to Red Square. Raivis was wearing one of Ivan's old coats that he had grown too big for. But it was definitely big enough for the boy. Ivan was wearing a beige overcoat of his own. The sky was gray and cloudy, but sun filtered through, making the cold day seem a little more amiable.

As they walked onto their driveway, Raivis could see someone working in the neighboring yard, weeding through a garden. Ivan turned and saw him, and smiled. He then called out cheerfully, "Hello Toris!"

The strange man, apparently 'Toris', looked up with a blank face. A strand of his light brown hair was in his face, covering one of his eyes. He stared at Ivan, then when his gaze averted to Raivis, he smiled a little.

Ivan gently prodded Raivis forward, and they walked over to the other yard. Toris stood up, dirty gardening kneepads on, and gave a soft, "Hello Ivan. I'm glad to see you made it back okay."

"Why wouldn't I have made it back okay?" smiled Ivan, voice still cheerful when he asked. Somehow this made Toris avert his gaze to the ground for a second.

Ivan, still smiling happily, clapped Raivis on the shoulder gently, "This is my adopted son Raivis. Raivis, this is Toris Laurinaitis, my friend."

"Hello sir." greeted Raivis politely.

"Pleased to meet you." smiled Toris shyly, shaking his hand. Raivis' hand trembled enough for the tall man to feel it, but he didn't seem to notice. His bright green eyes were very kind looking, but slightly reserved.

Toris then commented observantly, "His accent is very similar to mine. Isn't he from New York?"

Ivan, still smiling, said matter-of-factly, "He's actually from Latvia, one of the Baltic countries. He's just lived in New York for a very long time."

"Oh."

Raivis noticed a slight look of nervousness in Toris' eyes. He almost looked like he was intimidated by Ivan. But why? Ivan wasn't talking intimidatingly. Sure, he was at least a foot taller than Toris, but he didn't seem like he was a nerve-causing person. Maybe Toris was embarrassed?

Raivis smiled to Toris, "People ask about it all the time. I've actually learned how to talk with a Brooklyn accent, but I think people will stare at me if I try it here."

Ivan and Toris both had a slightly amused smile on their faces. Toris then continued, not looking so nervous anymore, "I was curious, since I'm from Lithuania, and we have very similar accents. That's very interesting, Raivis. I hope to get to know you better soon."

The boy nodded, and smiled. Ivan then smiled kindly to Toris, and said, "Well, we're off. I'm showing him Red Square today."

In a quieter tone, Toris gave a shy smile, "Have fun."

Ivan smiled once again, and walked off to the car. Raivis gave one last glance to Toris, who was staring uncomfortably at Ivan. Raivis couldn't really see why still. Maybe it was his height. Or maybe Toris was just shy.

* * *

Colors.

That was the first thing going through Raivis' mind when he saw St. Basil's Cathedral. The drops of blue and white stripes, yellow and green diamonds, and the red/green stripes. The domes of the pillars. They were so unique and strange. They looked almost alive. Like they could spin around and change colors to fast paced music.

Raivis was glad he brought a portable camera to take pictures with. This was giving him ideas. Multitudes of ideas.

Red Square itself carried endless ideas for filming and inspiration. After seeing the cathedral, he walked around to all the different buildings and structures, Ivan being eager to tell him everything he knew about them. Hearing Ivan talk so excitedly and informatively was sort of amusing to Raivis. And it was even more fun for Raivis to see the places himself. He had taken many pictures of the Kazan Cathedral, and the pictures of the GUM department store's outside were endless.

Taking a break from sightseeing, Ivan treated Raivis to a stop at a cafe by the GUM department store. They both agreed not to actually visit the department since according to Ivan, it was nothing more than an 'exhibition of prices', as nothing was actually affordable.

Ivan was continuing on about the history behind the Kremlin, as he stirred his earl gray tea. Raivis listened intently as he sipped on a hot chocolate. It wasn't as good as the Kirkland family's was, but it was satisfactory. The boy was very impressed at Ivan's knowledge for history, wondering how he even knew so much. He'd definitely be helpful for his next films.

After Ivan took a break from talking about history, and sipped his drink, Raivis asked, "What do you do at your job?"

"I work with autistic children."

"Well, what do you _do_?"

"I hold discussions with the child if they can speak well, I help them practice therapy exercises, I help maintain the clinic, perscribe treatments, hold therapy sessions, and provide counseling and guidance for the parents. There's a lot that goes into it. Autism is very difficult to work with."

"What is autism anyway?"

"It's a complex neurodevelopmental disorder. Complex as in that no two cases are completely the same. Like snowflakes."

"Then how do you know when someone has it?"

"While not every case is the same, most every case involves some sort of restricted and repetitive behavior. For example, one of the little girls I work with tends to flap her hands, and push the chairs in my office into corners, in odd positions. And many autistic people have difficulty communicating. Some can't even speak at all."

He tapped his finger against his forehead for a moment, and looked at his tea, deep in thought.

"A lot of the children I work with can talk, and keep a conversation, even if for a little. But some...they're just sort of locked into their own world, and there is only so much you can do to reach them. For those cases, I hold therapy sessions with the child, to curb some behaviors, and I talk to the parents more, so they can deal with it better."

"Wow. Sounds tough."

"Da, it is, but it's good to always keep hope. Many autistic children are deemed 'retarded' because they are incapable of taking an IQ test, but really, many of them are very intelligent. I've worked with many autistic savants, and they've done well growing up."

Raivis took another swallow of his hot chocolate, and realized his hands were trembling again. He asked curiously,

"Do autistic people ever have trembling hands?"

"Some do, but that's an ailment that is common in many other things. I can determine pretty quickly that you're not autistic, Raivis."

Raivis nodded. He knew he wasn't autistic. His trembling was some medical condition involving his nervous system. He just wanted to have some reassurance.

* * *

Ivan finished off his tea, and then smiled and said,

"Sometime next week, I'll start teaching you Russian."

Raivis took a bit to big of a gulp of his hot chocolate when he heard this, and choked a little. As he regained his breath, he sputtered, "R-really?"

Ivan nodded, "Da. You'll need to learn some basics before I can send you to school. Unfortunately, I can't be your translator there, since I have to work on most days. I go back to work in a couple of weeks, and someone has been in my absence for the last few weeks. So for the time I have left to stay home, I'll teach you some Russian. And then when it's time for me to go back, I'll ask Toris to help teach you."

"Toris?"

"He's quite fluent in Russian as well. He often watches my house when I'm away, so if you aren't in school while I'm at work, he'll be around to look after you."

Raivis bit the inside of his mouth a little. _Great..._, he thought,_ A baby sitter?_

"Not like a sitter for you though." added Ivan, as if he could read the boy's mind, "More like a house-sitter."

Raivis knew what Ivan was trying to explain, but he still was unsure about it. He barely even knew Toris anyway. Besides, he was fourteen, and a New Yorker. He was street-wise. He could stand tall if he wanted. He could take care of himself.

But he didn't want to question Ivan about it, and shook his head affirmatively, giving a false smile. He then finished off the rest of his drink. It was lukewarm, and rather milky.

After more sightseeing, they went back to their car, and drove for home. As they were turning a corner, a big car cut them off, forcing Ivan to slam on the brakes with a screech. He honked at the car, bewildered fury on his face.

"Sookin syn!", he shouted at the car, clearly irritated. Raivis gave a cautionary glance towards him, wondering if he should ask if he was okay. Although he almost wanted to laugh at Ivan's reaction.

A few seconds later, Ivan calmed down, and turned to Raivis with a smirk, "That is one thing I am_ not_ going to be teaching you to say."

_That's okay_, thought Raivis with an amused smile. _I'll just figure it out on my own._

* * *

**Since this story is K+, I'll simply say 'sookin syn' translates directly to 'male offspring of a female dog'. Yeah, you can figure that out for yourself.**_  
_


	5. Chapter 5

"P-privet...menya zovut Raivis Braginski."

Raivis was going to die. And it would be all Ivan's fault. He was going to die of nerves, if not embarrassment first. Why couldn't things just have gone like they had been for the last five weeks? He was already starting to like Toris, and he was learning just fine on his own at home. He didn't even _know_ that Ivan had enrolled him into the school until he saw the forms on the kitchen table Saturday night.

He was standing in the front of the room, where five rows of eyes were gazing at him like he was some sort of animal at the zoo. And with his baggy red jacket, messy dishwater blonde hair, and tired looking purple eyes, he must have looked at least a little subhuman.

The teacher nodded and gave a gesture towards one of the empty desks, speaking in a thick accent, "You can take a seat in the front row here, Raivis."

Then she spoke to the class. He didn't understand a single word of it. He realized that this was going to be difficult to get through, especially since the school currently didn't have an ESL program or anything like that. And Ivan or Toris weren't there to help him. He'd have to get used to the teacher translating everything for him. Luckily she knew enough English to speak to Raivis. But then again, he didn't really like the special attention he would be getting. The kids were staring at him still, even as he sat in his chair.

He actually begged Ivan to let him stay home, but the man just laughed and told him to get out of bed. For the next five minutes, Raivis tried to think of legitimate ways to keep him from going to school. He could make a thumping noise when he got out of the bed, and pretend he fainted. Then Ivan would let him stay home. Or cholera. He could fake cholera...But then he'd end up having to take disgusting medicine, which would make him legitimately ill when he was already healthy. Or he could fake his death. But that would have serious consequences. When he had almost decided on faking a coma, Ivan irritably came up the stairs, and with a lack of amusement in his voice, said "Raivis, get up now! I have to be at work in twenty minutes, and I still have to get you to school! No funny business!"

While the tone was enough to get Raivis jumping out of bed, it didn't really disturb him. He had been living with Ivan for a month, and knew enough that that tone of voice was simply Ivan being serious. And he could respect that. Within five minutes, Raivis was putting on his clothes, and reluctantly eating a piece of toast at the table, while Ivan rushed around the house, trying to get his papers for work together. Soon enough they were driving off, while Ivan chatted on, happily describing how Raivis would like school. When they had pulled up, he rubbed the boy on top of his head gently, and sang "Have a good first day!"

Raivis was getting out of the car, and could see two or three older, taller boys staring at him indecisively. Which was bad. Before Raivis could beg Ivan to let him back in the car, his adoptive father was already driving off, leaving him to certain death. Raivis tried to think of last ditch efforts to escape a horrible fate, and by the time he imagined a newspaper headline reading "Mysterious Death in Schoolyard", the morning bell was ringing, drawing the students into the building.

Back in the classroom, as the teacher spoke rapidly in a language Raivis could only decipher as gibberish, he looked around the room. Posters in Cyrillic text decorated the walls, one of them with a little bear-like cartoon character sitting and reading a book. _Cheburashka._ Raivis remembered how Ivan had showed him a little book for children, the character on the cover. Raivis had looked at the book on his own earlier, and saw the pages were slightly covered in crayon. Which was rather strange since Ivan lived alone.

Raivis then looked at the students around him. Most of them were looking at the teacher. But one of them was staring at Raivis. When Raivis' eyes locked with the other boys, the stranger smiled a little, and gave a gesturing nod of the head, as if to greet him, or acknowledge his presence.

The boy had hazelish-green eyes, and dirty blond hair that was straight and clean. He was wearing glasses, rather thick looking, and a green sweater. He looked older and taller than Raivis.

Older and taller was bad. That meant he could beat him up. But the smile...the smile and greeting; that was good.

Raivis shakily smiled back, and the other boy turned his head back to face the teacher, who was talking in Russian, not acknowledging him again yet. Raivis turned his head the same way, but his eyes glanced at the clock.

Three more hours until lunch.

He wasn't going to make it.

* * *

And as he stared at the questionable food on his plate, he realized he wasn't going to make it through lunch either. He sat alone at one of the long metal tables in the lunchroom, watching as the other kids chatted happily amongst their peers. Just like in New York.

He was about to take a daring bite of the pasta salad (at least, that's what he thought it was), when the boy from class slid his tray along the table, and plopped down beside him. The boy smiled cheerfully, and spoke rapidly in Russian. Raivis tilted his head, completely confused.

"Um...menya zovut-"

"You said your name in class already!" the other boy said with a smile, his accent very thick. He poked his glasses onto his nose again, "Sorry, I forgot you only know a little Russian. Well lucky for you, I know English."

Raivis smiled with relief, "That's good! I was afraid I was the only one!"

"Actually, a lot of kids here can speak English. Just not as well as you, I'm guessing. I'm Eduard, by the way.", greeted the boy, picking up his fork and stabbing his own food.

"Okay, cool...why is your accent different? It doesn't sound Russian."

"I'm actually Estonian. I speak that as well." grinned Eduard with a little bit of pride, "I live here with my mother, while my dad works in the UK. He taught me English."

Raivis raised his eyebrows with slight surprise. He was pretty impressed with the fact that this guy knew three languages. And from what he saw in class, he was always raising his hand, and answering every question right. At least, that's what Raivis could interpret. Since the teacher sometimes said 'da', like Ivan did when he was affirming something.

"So where're you from?" asked Eduard, sipping his drink, "I know the teacher said you're from America, but judging by your accent, your from somewhere in this continent, right?"

"Yeah, Latvia." nodded Raivis, biting into a piece of pasta salad. It was very rubbery and tasteless. Ivan could make something better than this in his sleep.

"What's it like there?"

"I don't know." admitted Raivis, chewing the ill-made food, "I was only three years old when I left there the last time. I identify with New York better."

"New York?" asked Eduard, a brightness in his eyes, "Shouldn't you have a Brooklyn accent then?"

Raivis gave a small smile, "I can speak with one if I want to, but it never really grew on me naturally."

Eduard grinned, "Can you show me? I want to hear it."

"Uh..."

"Can I hear your Brooklyn accent? Please?"

Raivis paused a moment, then smiled, "Okay!"

He sat up a little, and tried to think of something to say. He then remembered one of his favorite movies, _Singin' in the Rain_. It wasn't Kubrick, but it was a film that made him smile for sake of smiling. He then remembered one of his favorite scenes, and the lines that lead up to it. He had memorized this movie, and without hesitating, leapt into the scene, crying out, "_Why bother to shoot this picture? Why don't you just release the last one under a new title? If you've seen one, you've seen them on now, Don. Snap out of it! You can't let a little thing like this get you down. Why you're Don Lockwood, aren't you"? And Don Lockwood's an actor, isn't he? what's the first thing an actor learns? The show must go on. Come rain, come shine, come sleet, come snow, the show must go on. So remember: Short people have long faces. Long people have short faces. Big people have little humor and little people have no humor at all!"_

Before Raivis could continue on, in the large, well played accent he had grown to hear and learn in his home, Eduard was laughing and clapping hysterically. A couple of the kids at the table in front of them were looking back with amusement on their face.

"T-that was great!" wheezed Eduard, taking off his glasses a moment, "You have it spot on!"

And Raivis stopped to breathe, his cheeks red with excitement, as he saw the thrilled look on Eduard's face, and the approving stares of a few other kids. And he realized for that moment, that one single moment, as he spoke, he wasn't afraid of anything. He had let all his inhibitions loose, and just went at it. Like the tough New Yorker that he had hidden inside him.

He started laughing too, and going back to his natural accent, giggled, "Thanks."

"Have you thought of going into acting? You're really good!" complimented Eduard.

"Not really." admitted Raivis, biting his lip, "I don't really like to perform in front of other people. That's why I'd like to be a filmmaker. It's more fun to be behind the camera for me, rather than in front of it."

"Do you have any films? Can I see them?"

"Um...I don't show them to anyone. It's just my sort of thing."

"Oh, ok." nodded Eduard. And then it was quiet, as the Estonian fiddled with his glasses a little. Raivis noticed there was tape around the bridge of them, as if they had been snapped in half.

The two quietly talked and ate nonchalantly for the rest of the lunch period, until the bell rang. As he got up, Eduard grinned, "See you again tomorrow Raivis!"

Raivis thought a moment. Eduard wanted to sit with him again tomorrow?

He smiled. He had just made a potential friend.

* * *

Raivis' first day of school had gone better than he had thought. Nobody had bullied him, or threatened his life. Besides talking to Eduard, it was boring, but not terrible. He kind of wished that the teacher actually would have translated something for him at least once during the day, but then again, he didn't have to worry just yet. Besides a couple snickers from older boys when he tripped going down the hall after lunch, he wasn't a victim just yet.

When he returned home with a smile, Ivan looked relieved. Maybe he had been worried about Raivis too.

The next day, as they drove to the school, Ivan handed Raivis an envelope, "Sometime during your schoolday, can you drop this off to the room that's written on it? It's labeled, so you should be able to find it easily."

"Okay.", nodded Raivis tiredly, as he got out of the car once again. Ivan waved goodbye, and drove off, like the day before. Every day was going to be similar it seemed. Ivan would drive him to school, to evade the busy roads, and then Raivis would either be picked up by Toris, or wait at the school a while, for Ivan, depending on the day. Ivan didn't get home until his appointments for the day were empty, and that was usually a wild card. He admitted to Raivis that there would seldom be a regular day where Ivan would pick him up as soon as school let out.

The schoolday was boring like the day before. Once again, the teacher forgot to translate for him, and he was left sitting at his desk staring at the clock.

When the lunchbell rang, Raivis decided it was an appropriate time to drop off the envelope. He was admittingly a little curious as to what its contents were, but wasn't going to delve into it.

He gazed at the cyrillic writing on the envelope's corner, marking which room number it went to. Raivis walked down the hall, to find the matching labelled door, and ended up having to turn a few corners in the large building. After he passed a fifth drinking fountain, he worried about getting lost.

Soon enough, he found the door, and knocked on it. A young woman opened it, and looked down to Raivis with a curious look. She was wearing a red cut-sleeve tee-shirt, and a pink and green lanyard with a daisy pin. A nametag with a blue sticker was on the end of it, typed in Russian.

"Da?" she asked in Russian. Raivis held out the envelope, and said undecisively in English, "This is from my father."

The woman took it, and read the text on the front. After a moment, she smiled and said in a thick accent, "Oh, thank you! This is for one of my students."

She turned and walked over to a large round table in the middle of the room where a few children sat, eating their lunch. She put the letter down in front of a girl who was swinging her legs, and her head tilted as she stared out into space, drumming fingers on the table repeatedly. The woman smiled kindly and said in Russian, _"Sofiya, give this to your mother today, alright?"_

The girl didn't even respond, but the woman didn't seem angry or offended. She walked back over to Raivis, "I didn't know Mr. Braginski had a son."

"I was adopted a little while ago." informed Raivis, watching the other children in the room curiously.

"You know my father?"

The woman nodded, "I'm one of the teachers for the special needs children. A few of the autistic children here go to his clinic. He's wonderful with them."

She then fixed her wirey glasses on her face, "He used to work as a special needs teacher here, before he transferred to the clinic. We were sad to see him go- a lot of the students adored him- but we still have good connections with him."

"Why did he transfer?"

The woman shrugged, "I guess the clinic was just more promising for him. He's been working there for seven years, so it must be a good job for him."

Raivis nodded, rather interested by what he was hearing. So was this why Ivan sent him to this school?

The woman smiled and said, "You should probably head off to lunch, now."

Raivis gave a small smile of agreement. Eduard was probably waiting for him.

* * *

After-school, after getting dropped off at home by Toris, Raivis fixed himself a snack, and took a glance at the clock. 4: 18. Hopefully Ivan would be home soon.

Getting up from the table, he went down to the basement to work with his camera. About three minutes later, he heard the front door open and close. He shouted from the bottom of the stairs, "I'm down in the basement!"

"Okay." called out Ivan, walking past the stairs to the living room.

The Latvian wiped a smudge off his camera with his shirt, and peered through it. Just to test it, he turned on the record button, only to hear a warnful beep, indicating that there was nothing to save the recordings.

Heading upstairs, to fetch another camera chip from his room, Raivis passed the living room, and saw Ivan sitting on the couch, one of his elbows propped on his lap as he rested his chin in his hand, watching his laptop screen. The laptop was placed on the coffee-table, with an-all-too-familiar USB port plugged in it.

The one with Raivis' name on it._ He must have left it on the table earlier..._

Raivis' eyes shrank in horror, as his father's were wide in curiosity and focus, and both of them were silently staring at the footage that Raivis was so accustomed and attatched to, but the other was seeing for the first time.

Ivan was watching his films.

* * *

**For the record, I know the whole movie of Singin' in the Rain by heart. I once screamed that Cosmo Brown monologue to a friend. Passers-by thought I was hot sh*t.**

**Just for your reading sake, the next update will probably be the last for a while (unless I can squeeze another in), since I'll be leaving on July 12th for four weeks, and I'll be away from a computer.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Shorter chapter, but I've been busy getting ready for my month long trip. Next update will be the last one until mid-august.**

* * *

Raivis' body began to tremble even worse as he stared at the laptop playing his private world, leaving Ivan to see it. It was a nightmare of Raivis' to be stuck in the same room with someone while his works were projected. The works he was afraid nobody would understand.

For a couple minutes, he just stood petrified and silent, as he watched his work on the laptop. He could see the foil stars rotating around black crepe paper from his stop motion film. That meant Ivan had seen the one before it, the one he had filmed in New York about the homeless man conversing among the birds in the park, the one he had Arthur Kirkland help him with, but never getting the chance to show it to him. The one that he had once been eager to show people, when he was still young and naive. He had shown it to two prospective parents, and they scoffed under their breath about him having a 'screw loose', before they walked off. It hurt him so badly, he realized if nobody understood, they'd immediately hate it or write him off as mentally ill. Ivan was just staring at it, with a blank expression. Raivis didn't like that look. It told him that Ivan was confused, and looking for an answer as to what the hell he might be watching.

His breath hitched, giving an audible sound from his throat. Ivan, unaware of Raivis' presence in the room until now, turned his head and confusedly asked, "Raivis?"

The uncertainty in Ivan's voice and facial expression proved even more intense for Raivis, who gave a terrified, broken look, and with a choked squeal, he turned his heel, and ran for the stairs to go to his room. Ivan immediately became concerned at the boy's reaction, and paused the film, getting up from his seat to go upstairs.

He went to Raivis' room, only to find it was closed. A feeling of uncertainty and discomfort in his stomach, Ivan gently turned the knob on the door, and cracking it open, he peeked in worriedly, "Raivis?"

The boy was sitting on his bed, hunched into a trembling ball in the corner by the wall. His eyes were wide in hysteria as his eyes were watering. His hands were clenched in his hair, fisting the honey-colored locks brutally.

Eyes soft and caring, Ivan slowly walked in, "Are you okay?"

As he sat on the edge of the bed, Raivis choked a sob, "Y-you don't understand! You don't understand them!"

"Understand what? Raivis, what's wrong?"

"My films! Y-you weren't supposed to watch them!" he croaked miserably, tears already starting to fall off his fair lashes.

"You're right..." admitted Ivan, still not quite sure why Raivis was so upset, "I should have asked you first, I'm sorry. I found your drive on the table, and I let my curiosity get the be-"

"I-It's not that!" interrupted Raivis, giving a wet sniffle, "Y-you don't understand them! Nobody ever does!"

Ivan gave another confused look, "What gave you the ide-"

"Y-you were just staring at them! Y-you didn't like them!"

And Raivis furiously wiped at his eyes, trying to prevent more tears, as his sobbing was dissolving into hiccups. This reaction, especially for something like this was concerning to Ivan. In all the time he had been living with him, he had never once seen Raivis react like this. And he never would have expected such a reaction for the reasons given. He furrowed his brow, realizing now there was something very very wrong with Raivis. And not as a psychologist, but as his father, it was Ivan's job to figure out what it was that brought the poor boy to this.

He gently placed a hand on top of Raivis' head, while the boy was breathing with small irregular spasms.

"Raivis..." he started gently, "I always stare at films. I'm simply so taken in by them, I don't really react until it's over."

"And maybe I didn't fully understand your films..."

Raivis shuddered even more, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. Ivan ruffled his hair, trying to coax him from that.

"...But that doesn't mean I don't like them or think they're bad."

Raivis barely looked up. His lip was quivering still, and he sniffed loudly. Ivan gave an amazed smile, and his eyes were wide with mystified awe.

"Raivis." he addressed quietly, breathless reaction in his voice, "Your films are _very good_."

The boy's face changed to a look of surprise, but it left as soon as it came, leaving a darkened look, "You're lying."

Ivan shook his head frantically, "No, no, I'm not..." he whispered excitedly, "They are truly _very_ good for someone of your age. I was certain that you were good, but...they were impressive. The depth and care you put into them...it shows you have experience, and talent."

Raivis gave a curious look, and then looked down with a sigh, "But you still didn't understand them, did you?"

Ivan shrugged with a soft face, "I'll admit that I didn't understand them completely..."

Raivis felt the sourness in his throat again, as his eyes burned once more. Ivan gently touched his shoulder.

"...But that's sort of a good thing."

He pulled back his bangs, which were in his face, "Your films are not the easiest things to understand or analyze, so they're more thought provoking. And that tells me that you're a very creative person who is able to tell a story with a lot of depth. Not every filmmaker and writer can do that."

Raivis then gave the smallest of smiles when the Russian added, "Trust me on that. I'm a psychologist."

The boy bit his lip and nodded, and lay his head on his knees, "At least you're able to appreciate them. N-nobody ever did..."

"Nobody appreciated Van Gough at first."

"He ended up cutting his ear off and killing himself. I don't think that's a good analogy." muttered Raivis.

"Good point." replied Ivan, "But he ended up being famous all the same. And same for Stanley Kubrick. He probably spent some time feeling like he was passed by before he got his recognition. But you...you remind me of Orson Welles."

"Why him?"

"He was a young man who hadn't even stepped into an actual studio when he filmed his first feature length picture. And he ended up making one of the best films of all time. "

Raivis didn't respond. He just tilted his head, as if he were in thought. He then looked up,

"M-maybe when I make another film, I'll show it to you. You might not understand it, but you can at least appreciate it..."

Ivan patted the boy's head, "Good thinking, Mr. Welles."

* * *

Later that night, after Raivis had gone to bed, Ivan stayed up to finish some work. He was writing out a document regarding one of his patients, something that required a lot of focus. But he couldn't help but feel his mind was going back to Raivis.

That afternoon had been rather hectic, and would definitely remain in his mind for a long time. After he had talked to the boy, he seemed better, but Ivan was still worried about Raivis. He knew something wasn't right.

At first, he thought it was post traumatic stress disorder. But he wasn't even sure if anything would have happened at the orphanage to the boy for that to occur. Unless the bullying he recieved was worse than he had observed that fateful day in the park. And he remembered Raivis telling him that he had no recollection of his mother as a child, so it couldn't be anything regarding that, could it?

He immediately crossed off autism. Things would have been _much_ different if it were that. He knew from the children he worked with, that Raivis was not one of them. And because of the lifestyle Ivan once had,_ the one he never would go back to_, he was certain Raivis wasn't that.

Obsessive compulsive disorder was a guess. With his fixation on being understood, and his attatchment to his films, that may have very well been what was wrong with Raivis.

But even if Ivan were to ever figure out what was wrong, he'd still be more worried. He knew about Kubrick's mental state in his life, and the tragic fate of Van Gough. If Raivis really did end up becoming a late bloomer like them, his fate in the future could be in jeopardy.

Still, Ivan _tried_ not to worry too much. Raivis was still young. He had talent, _prodigious_ talent. He still had a brighter future to go onto. Ivan couldn't spend time fretting over what was wrong. He'd simply have to own up to his responsibilities as both a psychologist and a father. Raivis was his son, not a patient.

Ivan finished his work and walked into the living room. His laptop was still on the coffee table, in sleep mode. Rolling his eyes over how he accidentally left it on, Ivan pressed the off switch on it, and closed the top. He noticed Raivis' USB drive was still plugged in it. He felt a bit of uneasiness pool into his stomach. Raivis had told him that he'd show him his films, but he didn't want to look at them now. He just felt too guilty.

Unplugging the drive from the computer, Ivan went upstairs, and into Raivis' room very quietly. He put the drive on the boy's desk.

Raivis was sprawled on the bed, asleep. Dark circles were under his eyes from exhaustion, and he was clearly in deeper slumber. The bed covers were halfway off the bed, leaving only his legs covered.

Smiling weakly, Ivan pulled the covers up onto the bed, and draped them over the boy so he was kept warm. Then with hesitation and caution, he gently kissed his son on the cheek.

"Good night, little one." he murmured, as he carefully closed the door, and went to his own room to sleep.

He worried all night.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Raivis trudged groggily down the stairs, to find Ivan heating something over the stove. The man turned and gave a tired smile, "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

"'guess..." murmured Raivis, whose blue flannel pajama bottoms were wrinkled from fitful sleep. He woke up in the middle of the night, and couldn't rest. He noticed that there were bags under Ivan's own eyes, and the usually clean-kept Russian man had messy hair still.

Ivan poured a reddish-brown liquid into a glass mug, and put it on the table, "I made some sbiten. Would you like to try it?"

Raivis didn't respond, and instead lifted the mug up to his dry, tired lips. After he sipped the drink, he sensed the sweet honey-like taste on his tongue, and the refreshing warmth. He smiled a little, "It's good. Thank you. What is it again?"

_Comfort food._ "Sbiten. It's a drink I like to make when it's cold out. It always warms me up."

"Mm." nodded the boy, taking another sip of the drink. The Russian was gazing at him discreetly, with a caring, but almost worried look. He grimaced to himself, remembering the breakdown yesterday. He must have really freaked Ivan out.

Ivan was looking through his calendar, when he furrowed his brow. He turned to Raivis, "It seems I won't be able to pick you up as early today, and Toris is out. There's a bus depot just a couple blocks from the school. I think it would be alright if you waited there until I picked you up."

"Okay." mumbled the boy through the mug, as he finished another sip of the drink. He wouldn't mind asking Ivan to make this again sometime, it was quite tasty.

"Do be a bit cautious though. You can often meet the strangest people there..."

* * *

When Ivan dropped Raivis off, Eduard was just walking up to the school. The Estonian waved hello to Raivis as he got out of the car and said goodbye to Ivan. Eduard was able to get a fairly good look at Ivan before he drove off.

When the two boys met up, Eduard asked, "Was that your dad?"

"Uh-huh. He drops me off every morning."

Eduard pushed his glasses up on his nose, and gave a tilt of his head, "It's kind of weird. He looks a little similar to you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I mean, the purple eyes. That's not something you see every day. I know that _some_ people have them, but especially since you've both got blond hair, it's uncanny."

Eduard then chuckled a little, "You sure you're adopted?"

Raivis shrugged it off with a smile, "Pretty darn sure. I think Ivan would've known and told me if I was his long-lost son."

Eduard was about to reply when a loud voice rang behind them, "Hey Eddy! Where have you been hiding out?"

Eduard groaned under his breath, and Raivis turned around to see a taller boy catch his friend by the shoulder. His spiky blond hair was very unique, sticking out to a certain degree, as if it were gelled up. He wore a red shirt that said in white font "I'm the _real_ Prince of Denmark."

The new boy smiled in a way that was sort of unpleasant, "I've been looking for you Eddy. I've got a math test on Friday!"

Eduard grumbled, "Matthias, can't you find someone else to help you? I'm struggling to keep straight A's on my own."

The boy frowned, and sang with an accent new to Raivis' ears, "Eduard; buddy,_ friend_... I thought I made it very, very clear to you that I don't take no for an answer."

Matthias' fingers reached forward to pluck the Estonian's glasses from the bridge of his nose. Eduard complained, "Hey, stop it! My glasses are already broken enough!"

"Well, you'd better make the right choice. And telling me you're no longer tutoring isn't gonna work anymore, I'll get your help either way."

"Hey, leave him alone." frowned Raivis, finally feeling levelheaded enough to step in. Matthias cocked an eyebrow, and asked, "Who's the new kid, Eddy? Stooped to making friends with the fourth graders?"

"I'm fourteen, and in your grade. And I'm telling you to give him back his glasses."

"Haha, wow. Brave aren't we?" giggled Matthias, as he took a good look at Raivis, "You're shaking like a rat-dog, kid."

Raivis smirked and returned with a comeback he'd often used for this type of insult back in New York, "I'm only shaking because my superpowers override my short stature."

"My, my. An angry elf are we?" smirked Matthias back, not intimidated by Raivis at all.

Raivis frowned again, "Just give Eduard back his glasses already."

The boy gave a smile, "Not until he agrees to help me."

"Well why are you going to break his glasses and expect him to-"

"Nevermind, Raivis, I'll help him. Just give me back my glasses, Matthias."

Matthias smirked, and held them out for the Estonian to snatch, "I knew you'd see it my way. I'll see you afterschool then, Eddy."

When the boy walked off, Raivis turned to Eduard, "Why'd you let him do that?"

"It's not worth fighting over it, really. Anyway, Matthias is more bark than bite."

"But he breaks your glasses!"

"That's the worst he'll do. He'd never be able to lay a finger on anyone. If anything, I'd punch him out before he could even think to hit me. Apparently his dad is like a gargoyle, and can figure out if he's doing something wrong like that. I've seen his dad. He's quite large in height."

Raivis gave a mirthless laugh, "Maybe he and Ivan would get along well."

Soon, the bell rang, and they headed off to class. Raivis patted Eduard on the shoulder, "Good luck dealing with Matthias."

"Don't worry." shrugged the bispectacled boy, "I've dealt with him for two years."

And at that moment, Raivis realized Eduard was a lot smarter than he looked. At first Raivis thought his IQ was 250. Now he was guessing about 580.

* * *

The bus depot proved to be a less than likable place, as Ivan had warned. Raivis had taken notice of the homeless people slumped by benches, and people bundled in dark, shredded jackets with alien hairstyles. Cement posts were covered in old pieces of chewing gum, not properly discarded in the metal trashcans around the platforms.

Raivis stood by one of the posts by the road, watching every so often to see if Ivan's beat up car was hobbling up the way. The sky was gray and cloudy, and the air was slightly moist as if it were about to rain. Raivis wished he had brought the portable CD player Ivan gave him to listen to while he waited. The time dragging on proved to be long and boring.

But after some time Raivis got back to thinking about the conversation he had with Eduard that morning. Especially the joke his friend had made questioning if Raivis was adopted or not. At first, he had laughed it off. But now, he was agreeing with his friend that it really was uncanny. Violet eyes _were_ rare. So was it possible? Was it possible that he and Ivan were related?

Raivis thought back to when he had first met the Russian man, how Ivan had taken a particular interest in him it seemed. Because that man couldn't have possibly met each and every child at that orphanage personally. Maybe he adopted Raivis for a reason? Was there something Ivan wasn't telling him?

Ivan had often come across as secretive, besides being very kind. But the mystery that surrounded him proved to be a little bothersome to Raivis. First there was the door. Then there was Toris' nervousness around him. Not to mention the strange behavior whenever certain phone calls were answered, or certain visitors came to the door. Ivan would always appear...disturbed...upset maybe? But within a few minutes, he was back to normal, smiling and chatting happily with Raivis.

Raivis nearly panicked when he felt someone tap his shoulder. But of all people, it was Ivan, wearing one of those hats with ear-flaps. The tall man was smiling, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! I had to park in the parking lot. Are you ready to go?"

Raivis smiled with relief, and nodded, glad that some creepy stranger wasn't going to abduct him.

As they walked away from the depot, they saw a woman drop her wallet without noticing. Ivan picked it up, and called out, "Excuse me, I think you dropped this!"

The 'woman' turned around, and said in a voice _too deep_ to be female, "Oh thanks, I-"

Whatever friendliness in either's face or tone immediately disappeared. And a blank coldness seemed to fill in the void.

Ivan mumbled with a lack of joy, "Oh, it's you..."

"Hm." nodded the other, lime green eyes rather spacey looking. Raivis was able to determine now that the person was actually a man, with a womanish hairstyle, and _wearing a pink skirt._ Only in Russia would he have seen something like this...only in Russia.

"I'm surprised to see you in Moscow still."

"I'm surprised to see they haven't locked you up." replied the effeminate man with a bit of an icier tone. Raivis could feel dread pool into his stomach as he heard such an insult be made to the Russian man, who was in Raivis' mind, incapable of being a criminal.

Ivan frowned and didn't reply. He patted Raivis on the shoulder gently, and murmured, "Let's go."

"Who's he?" pointed the crossdresser to Raivis.

"This is Raivis, my son."

The man frowned with a little bit of shock, "When did you ever have a son?"

"I adopted him about two months ago."

The stranger gave a look of disgust, "You're like, absolutely crazy. You think you actually have the ability to raise kids, even work with them? You're a complete psycho."

"Not as much of a little ingrate as you, with your narrow-mindedness and gossipy mouth." glared Ivan, whose violet eyes were strikingly very cold. Raivis was left to stare in shock as the two men began to argue.

"Going off and adopting kids won't make you look any better." snarled the blonde, green eyes looking particularly hateful, "When it winds up with you being put away, nobody is gonna be sorry for you anymore."

Ivan chuckled bitterly "I'm at least making something of my life, while a selfish, concieted, spoiled brat like you is going around, spreading lies and rumors you can't even prove or support. Who should be the one people feel sorry for, now?"

The other man laughed back with the same bitterness, "You think you can raise kids right? _You_? You're absolutely pathetic, you psycho. I sure feel sorry for the kid-"

That's where Raivis finally stepped in, having had enough of this complete stranger harassing Ivan. He shakily choked out, "Y-you better shut up. Ivan is a great dad. Y-you think you can do better, you c-creep? You don't even know him."

The skirt-clad man stared wide-eyed at Raivis, while Ivan's own eyes were as wide as dinner plates. The man turned back to Ivan with a dumbfounded, mocking smile, "What now, you've actually convinced the kid you're an angel? Bra-_vo_."

The man then gave a smug look, and approached Raivis, "One of these days, kiddo, you'll learn how twisted this freak really is.", and poked his shoulder as he punctuated his sentence.

Ivan slapped his hand away, rage in his eyes as he growled vehemently, "Don't you _ever_ touch my son."

They shared a murderous glare, before Ivan tapped Raivis on the shoulder, and with a soft voice, grumbled, "Let's go home, Raivis."

The boy quietly followed, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach. As they began walking, the other man sneered and called out, "Hey if Toris is still hanging around, tell him Feliks says hello!"

Ivan shouted back hoarsely, "Expect nothing of it, _sookin syn_!" _That curse again..._

The Russian man looked like he was using all of his willpower to not go and tear apart the man known as 'Feliks'. Raivis was honestly frightened now. He had never seen Ivan this angry. In fact, in the rare occassion where he might have been angry or frustrated with Raivis, he had never had such a glare of anger or hatred.

When they approached the car, Ivan finally said, "Don't even bother asking who he was. He's just a stupid creep with no life or future. Thank God the people I work with aren't like him."

The car ride home was very awkward and silent. Even if Ivan had dismissed the argument between him and Feliks, he was still clearly upset. Raivis could take a guess why. Maybe it was because the crossdresser had made that particularly scathing comment that questioned Ivan's parenting ability. That could shake up any new parent.

When they got home, Raivis went down to the basement, to stay out of his father's way for a while. Just so he could calm down. The Latvian toyed with his camera a while, until he got bored and anxious. He wanted to make sure Ivan was alright.

The Russian man was sitting at the kitchen table, one hand resting his forehead, while the other lay next to a cup of tea. He was staring blankly at the table, clearly upset and exhausted. He didn't even look up when Raivis entered the kitchen, pretending to get a glass of milk.

"You understand I'm trying right?" he asked suddenly, voice very soft. Raivis looked over to him, and saw just how worried this man really was.

"I...I may seem odd or...I may not make the best decisions sometimes...but I'm really trying, Raivis...I'm just so new to this, it seems." _I really shouldn't be..._

The boy smiled a little, trying to cheer his father up, "It's ok. Y-you're doing fine. I'm a little new to this too...being a son, and whatnot..."

Raivis wasn't kidding. After being at the orphanage for all the parts of his life he could remember, being part of a family where he didn't have to share love and attention with other children besides himself and his father was a completely different experience. And until he could uncover and understand those strange secrets about Ivan, he wasn't going to get any more used to it.

* * *

**Ok, so this is just a reminder that this will be the last update for a while. I'll be in California (starting Thursday) for a whole month, and I won't have any computer access that will let me write anything. So the next update will be in August. I'm sorry for the wait, but you'll be rewarded for your patience with a lovely chapter!**

**I'm sorry for making Denmark the bully, but he'll be reappearing sometime. You'll see. And Poland as well.**

**Well, anyway, wish me luck and safety in Cali, and I'll talk to y'all soon~ **


	8. Chapter 8

**Ahhh, I'm back from California after a whole month! Thank you for your patience! I should probably let you know that I had this halfway finished when my computer crashed, so I had to restart it. So it might not be as well written...but do not fret! I will make this story better each chapter!**

* * *

Raivis was nearly half asleep in class when for the first time in_ four_ days, the teacher addressed him in English, in front of the class. He stuttered in confusion, as he saw the expectant look on her face. Hesitantly, fumbling over his words, he asked, "C-could you repeat the question?""

A couple classmates snickered as the teacher rolled her eyes, and said sternly, "I wasn't inquiring anything, I was asking for your homework."

"Oh.", swallowed Raivis as he dug through his bag to find the paper, and sheepishly handed it to the woman who kept her gaze fixed on him for a second, before she then commented in her thick accent, "I want to see you after class."

The Latvian sank down in his seat with a groan. He didn't necessarily fear being called in after class, but he knew it probably wouldn't be in his favor. The teacher barely paid attention to him, and when she did, he had stopped pretending to care. He was going to be so happy when the winter break happened in a few weeks. That would give him time to find a subject to film, and to just be an introvert in his room. But it would also give him time to figure out Ivan. Because if he wanted to live without any qualms against the man, he had to make sure his oddities were ultimately harmless, and wouldn't end up with Raivis being a murder victim. He felt ashamed of thinking of Ivan in that way, but you could never be certain.

Finally the bell rang, and as the thunder of students heading off to lunch began to fade, Raivis plodded over to the teacher's desk. She looked up at him calmly, and she said with a very disciplined tone, "You're not paying enough attention in his class."

_I'm paying attention, you're just not paying attention to me!_ Raivis nodded, "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't seem like you're getting enough sleep at night, since you're usually asleep in my class. Are you having any trouble getting to bed at a reasonable hour?"

"No, m'am.", he replied dully. To be honest, he was getting to bed at a good hour each night. It was falling asleep that was different. Ever since that incident at the bus depot with that Feliks character, Raivis was even more curious about Ivan, staying up all night to contemplate. The effeminate blond had made a comment about Ivan deserving to get locked up. What could the Russian have ever done that would put him in jail? He didn't seem_ capable_ of committing a crime. He frankly wanted to go back to the bus depot, and clock that creep in the face for calling his adoptive father a psycho, but he couldn't do something like that until he had evidence that Ivan was or wasn't a shadier character than he thought. That night after the incident, Ivan had gone upstairs, and went into the room with the lilac door, locking it behind him. He didn't come out for a good two hours, and he seemed even more depressed and upset than from when they had gotten home.

The teacher spoke sharply, "You're spacing out again. I cannot have that in my classroom."

"'m sorry m'am.", he apologized rehearsedly, picking at a fuzzball on his jacket.

"If it seems you cannot pay attention in class, I will consider calling your father. Understood?"

_Ye Gods, woman. Don't do that, the poor man's got enough problems. He's trying to raise a freak like me, and he's got some freaky crossdresser on his back for something he won't even tell me. If he figures I'm having issues here, he'll pop a gasket someplace! It's your job to get me to learn this stuff, not his_, "Yes m'am."

"Good. You may go now.", she dismissed, looking back down at the homework papers on her desk. All written in Cyrillic, which Raivis barely understood. He found the Russian language fun to speak, but an absolute drag to read or write.

During lunch, Raivis noticed some tape on Eduard's glasses. He gave a curious look, and the Estonian smirked, "Matthias flunked his test. He forgot the quadratic theorem."

"So he broke your glasses?"

Eduard sighed, "Yes.", but then he grinned, "But you want to hear the secret? I knew he was going to flunk because I was giving him the wrong information."

Raivis gave a surprised expression, "Really?"

The other nodded with a slightly smug face, "Maybe he won't be coming around for my help so much."

The Latvian grinned cooly, and patted the other on the back, "Good man."

But before they could say anything else, spiky blond hair poked its way between their heads. Striding a little, Matthias smiled smugly as he patted Eduard on the head, "Little lunch date we've got here?"

"Yes, now beat it." mumbled Raivis through a bite of his egg salad sandwich from home.

The Danish boy ignored him as he grinned at Eduard, "So here's the scoop, the teacher is letting me do a retake. And I've still got faith in you, Eddy ol' boy."

The bispectacled boy sighed, "Matthias, I'm terrible with quadratics."

_Liar_, smiled Raivis to himself as he unscrewed his thermos, trying not to listen too much.

"Then you'd better get to studying yourself, brain-boy. You should be honored that someone like me is enlisting help from someone like you."

With a flick at the frame of Eduard's glasses, Matthias walked off. Eduard watched him leave, as Raivis finally asked, "You're going to let him get away with that?"

"I don't think so. I'll make sure he fails again, or I'll start extorting money from him."

"He doesn't pay you to help him?"

"Well, he _does_, but sticks of gum that are left in your pocket for three days barely cut it."

Raivis chuckled a little, "If I were you, I'd ask him to pay me in cigarettes."

Eduard raised an eyebrow, "You smoke?"

"I did a little back in New York. I'd smoke on the roof, with some of the others, since a lot of the jerks there did too. That was the only time they didn't bug me or anything. I haven't for a long time, though. Ivan'd have a cow if he saw me smoking."

"'Have a cow?'", repeated Eduard, tilting his head in confusion.

"It's a figure of speech, sorry." smiled Raivis, half eaten food vibrating in his trembling hand. He sometimes forgot he wasn't in America anymore.

* * *

Toris' car was parked outside the school when Raivis headed down the steps. Which was strange, since Ivan had the day off today. Toris smiled and waved to the boy, "Ivan was busy, so he asked me to pick you up!"

_Why would he be busy on his day off?_ "Okay.", fakely smiled Raivis as he climbed in the car. As Toris started the car, he asked, "Would you like it if I treated you to ice cream?"

"Um, ok, why?", asked Raivis, tilting his head.

"It seems like a good day for it, yes?", smiled the Lithuanian, as he turned the corner. Raivis hid his frown. Why wasn't the Lithuanian going to take him home just yet? Ivan had a day off, so he didn't need to wait around, did he? But not passing up the offer of a scoop of classic fudge, he didn't say anything else.

At the shop, as they sat with their cones, Raivis contemplated what was going on. He wanted to ask Toris directly what he was hiding, but instead asked, "Why couldn't Ivan pick me up? He had a day off today."

"I don't know.", mumbled Toris through his scoop of caramel swirl, "He just asked me to. He was busy."

_No he's not, liar._ "Oh."

As it became silent, Raivis could feel his mind going back to the incident at the bus depot last week, and the cross dresser. He had mentioned Toris' name.

"Hey, Toris? Do you know some guy named Feliks?"

Toris perked up at the name, "Feliks? Y-yes I know a Feliks.", he responded almost breathlessly. He looked at Raivis with large eyes, "D-does he have blonde hair, and a...ah...a skirt?"

"If he spoke like a girl, then yes."

Toris smiled almost nostalgically, "Yes I know him. He was my best friend. B-but then things happened, so we don't speak anymore."

"Was he always such a creep? He was harassing Ivan last week."

"O-oh, dear.", sighed Toris, "No, no, he used to be a very nice person...well, to me at least, but he never really like Ivan. A while back, he did some things that weren't very nice towards Ivan, and I wouldn't tolerate it. I'm sorry you had to see him doing that though...he shouldn't have. He's usually very nice..."

_He called Ivan a psycho. Was that true?_ "I guess I shouldn't listen to a thing he says..."

"R-right.", smiled Toris nervously.

Raivis wanted to call Toris out on his weakness, but he didn't. He just observed too often how nervous his neighbor was around Ivan, and how awkward he spoke when around him. But he didn't have evidence just yet.

A few minutes later, Toris left to use the bathroom, leaving his phone on the table. Just as he left, it chimed, signaling a message coming in. Curious, Raivis peered at the screen, which flashed, 'Message from Ivan'.

Raivis knew it was bad to invade privacy, but if it was from Ivan, then he deserved to see it too. He poked the 'read' button, and the message appeared:

_I'm not ready to see Raivis yet. I need to rest a little longer. Can you watch him until about nine, please? Thank you._

Pushing the sleep mode button on the phone, Raivis frowned. What was Ivan doing? Why wouldn't he let him come home? If the Russian was secretly hating him, couldn't he just tell him now, and save Raivis the trouble of going on a hunt to find the answer? And why was Ivan 'resting'?

When Toris came back, Raivis lied between crunches of his sugar cone, "I think your phone rang."

Toris picked it up, and read the message. Biting his lip in thought, he smiled to Raivis, "It seems your father is out of the house for a while. I'll take you back to my house to wait until he comes back, ok?"

_Liar! The message said nothing of that! I know you're a liar!_ "Ok, I can do my homework there."

They ate their ice cream in silence. When they got to Toris' house, Raivis was deathly quiet, not saying a single thing about Toris' lie. He didn't even point out how Ivan's beat up excuse for a car was still in the driveway.

As the boy worked on his homework, he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Ivan was up to something now, and he was avoiding Raivis because of it. And Toris was lying for him. Both were acting suspicious, which made Raivis nervous. Neither seemed capable of doing terrible things, but that made them even more susceptible of it. Raivis knew he couldn't outright call them out on their actions, but he didn't want to end up being murdered if one of them really was a psycho.

* * *

After five hours of silence in Toris' house, it was nine o' clock. Raivis had been leafing through his history book when Toris came out of the kitchen, smiling, "Your dad called me, and said he was home. I think it's ok for you to walk home, yes?"

_Quit lying you Lithu-wimp, and tell me what the hell is going on. Or I'll force it out of you. _"Yes, thank you Toris.", he smiled, as he took his bag and left the house.

Walking across the Lithuanian's front lawn, he reached his driveway. Walking up, he could smell paint. Following the trail, he found the source to be the mailbox. Peering into the dark, squinting, Raivis saw a gold streak on the metal frame. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a ring of gold strokes pop out with a glisten towards his eyes, and a chocolate brown center. A sunflower.

There were now five sunflowers on the mailbox, not four.

It didn't take a genius to know that Ivan painted that sunflower on the mailbox. But why? Why did he paint it there? For giggles? Probably not. Raivis wouldn't have been kept from the house if Ivan just painted that sunflower for fun. It meant something, but what?

Almost worried that the Russian might have done other strange things during the day, Raivis went inside. The only light on was the foyer light. Dropping his bag, he called out, "Ivan, I'm home!"

Getting no response, he went into the living room, and found the Russian asleep on the couch. Circles of weariness were under his eyes, and a woolen quilt with daisies on it was draped on him. Had Raivis not been so suspicious of him right now, he'd almost think it was innocent. But something just seemed really off about this.

Raivis nudged his father, "Ivan?"

The Russian jolted awake with a grunt, as he sleepily looked around, "Raivis?...You're home?"

"Yeah, it's past nine o' clock.", informed the boy.

"Oh...did Toris watch you?"

"Yes. I walked home."

Ivan nodded, and yawned, "Did you remember to thank him?"

"Yes, Ivan.", smiled Raivis with a nod. Ivan smiled sleepily, "Alright then. Why don't you head off to bed? It's late, yes?"

"Mhm.", replied the boy, as he muttered a quick "goodnight", and headed up the stairs.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the hallway was the lilac door. It seemed different today. It was almost as if it was open. Stepping closer, Raivis saw that it was indeed. Just a crack. Which meant that he could go inside. It wasn't locked away, restricted from him. Ivan had told him not to go in there, but since it was unlocked, it was asking for it...

He pushed the door open, the tiniest bit, so he could slink in. He really didn't expect _too_ much from this room, assuming it was a private study, or relaxation room.

What took him off guard was the walls. They were painted a violet-blue pastel color, smooth like cake frosting. Around the edges were handpainted little fairies, like the lilac fairies from the "Sleeping Beauty" play. Then there was the carpet. It was plush white, not a worn beige carpet like the rest of the upstairs. It was almost as if nobody had walked on this carpet for ages. A soft white comforter draped on a small bed in the corner stood out in the dark.

At the end of the bed was a toybox, neatly packed up. Across the other wall was a purple painted bookshelf crammed full of children books. A soft, plush, white bear with a blue ribbon on its neck sat on the bed pillow.

It took only half a second for Raivis to realize that this was a child's room. A very young child's room. But by the almost _perfect_ look of it, it had no occupee. Which was almost creepy. This room was sealed away from Raivis, so who was it for?

Raivis didn't walk any farther into the room, so he wouldn't get trapped if Ivan found him. But his eyes caught a _perfect_ white dresser by the door. On top of the dresser was a picture frame, silver framed. Curiously, Raivis picked it up, eyes wide in shock as he viewed the picture.

It was of an infant, androgynous by the photo, but still intriguing. It looked to be close to a newborn, maybe only a month old. It was wearing a piece of white sleepwear, looking up at the camera with a faint turn of the lip corners. A small tuft of whitish-blonde graced its tiny head. Raivis could feel himself having a staring contest with the baby's violet eyes.

_Is this me?_

Raivis was so taken by the photo. So taken that he didn't hear the footsteps from the stairs. And he initially didn't see Ivan. But he did feel himself get yanked roughly by his collar, launched back into the hallway, the back of his head meeting the wall with a smack, as he heard an almost terrified yelp,

"PUT THAT DOWN!"

* * *

Within thirty minutes, everything was a blur, as he lay on the couch, listening as Ivan profusely apologized again, near hysterically, holding an ice pack gently to his head. The Russian's eyes were large with worry and guilt as he looked at the boy.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just surprised to see you in there!"

He knelt down to ruffle Raivis' hair, as he choked, "I told you not to go in there. It's not something for you to be involved with."

Raivis could feel his cheek get pressed against Ivan's shoulder as he hugged the boy, "B-but that's no excuse for me to have hurt you like that. Can you forgive me?"

_Tell me what's going on!_ "Of course. It was just an accident."

Ivan gave a sigh of relief, as he reapplied the ice pack. He gently patted the boy's head once again, "I hope you won't be sore in the morning."

_I wish._ "I'll be okay.", smiled the Latvian. The ice felt good on his head, which was already getting the migrane of the century. He could forgive Ivan for the moment, but he was truly scared. As in genuinely scared. He always knew Ivan was a little strange, but he never thought that he could actually _hurt_ him. He knew Ivan didn't mean to, but it still scared him. Because he knew that the Russian was capable of hurting him.

But that was the smaller shock. Raivis was still thinking about that photo. The baby with the curled blonde hair and violet eyes. It looked so small. He didn't recognize it as anything just yet, but now he was connecting things together.

The hair and eyes. Ivan's freakout about the door. The unused room. How Ivan was caring for him now. How he felt connected to Ivan...it was different from the other foster homes he lived in...it was almost as if...

_...as if Ivan really was his father._

Head throbbing, Raivis whispered under his breath, _"Oh my god."_


	9. Chapter 9

Raivis stared stiffly at his pasty white oatmeal. He normally ate this in the mornings before school, but with the knot in his stomach, he couldn't even think of swallowing it down. The spoon in his hand was vibrating as he uncontrollably shivered. He felt terrible today, his head throbbing from getting knocked into the wall the night before. He couldn't sleep that night, as he contemplated over the information he had gathered. The things he had seen. And the strange behaviors he was noticing.

Even now, Ivan seemed stranger. He was sitting at the table, glancing up at Raivis every so often with a look that said, "Please don't hate me." He was smiling to hide his nervousness, sipping his tea, the cup shaking from his trembling hand. The silence between the two was awkward, as they were both nervous and anxious. Raivis acknowledged how nervous he was, but he had yet to decipher why Ivan was so.

He still remembered that bedroom. A child was meant to live there, albeit a young one. The question was, did a child live in there, or not? Because it was so clean, it seemed as though nobody resided in it. Raivis was locked away from it. And only Ivan went in there. So what was it for. Was there something else in there? Something that could answer Raivis' questions?

But what left Raivis so stricken now was the photo. The baby in the photo; it had blonde hair and violet eyes. Just like Raivis. Just like Ivan. Raivis had never seen a picture of himself as a baby, and so he never knew what he looked like. The baby in the photo, he didn't know if it was a boy or girl. But it seemed as if everything was beginning to fall into a place.

Raivis barely remembered his own mother. He never could remember her face, or her eyes. The only thing he remembered was dark hair. That was what she had, dark hair. So he must have paternally inherited his father's hair. Raivis and Ivan's hair was very very similar. That was one piece of evidence. Then there was the eyes. Violet eyes were so rare, it made it very possible he was related to Ivan. They were usually inherited by parents, as Raivis assumed. Then at the orphanage, Ivan had showed a strange amount of interest in him. It was almost as if Ivan had preplanned his visit. Almost as if he already knew what he was looking for. Like a long lost child. Then the photo. Ivan had nearly attacked him over it. He didn't want Raivis to see it. Maybe he didn't want Raivis to know. Maybe he didn't want him to know that Ivan had ditched him when he was too small to even do anything about it. If Ivan hadn't done that, maybe Raivis wouldn't have ever been at the orphanage.

Near fully convinced, Raivis' biggest question was now, _How could he? How could he be hiding this from me? What else is he hiding? Why is everyone suspicious and afraid of him?_

As the knot in his stomach grew tighter, making his throat burn, he asked himself the biggest question of all, _What if Ivan really is my father? Why would he have abandoned me?_

The boy trembled, face turning pale. Ivan gave a slightly frantic,worried look, "Raivis?"

As Ivan moved closer, concern on his face, Raivis could feel the nausea overtake him, as he groaned, and made haste towards the bathroom, where he spilled out the contents of his stomach. The gross feeling wouldn't go away. And he felt guiltier as seemingly kindhearted Russian's attempts to comfort him only made him feel sicker.

* * *

As he lay on the couch, Ivan was feeling his forehead, "You definitely feel warmer than normal. It looks like a stomach flu."

He slowly lumbered over to the phone on the table nearby, and commented as he dialed the number, "I'm calling your school, to let them know you're staying home."

Raivis gave a tired, "Mhm...", as he lay back on the couch pillow. He felt too ill to be accusing Ivan of anything.

The Russian pulled off his shoes, and commented, "I'll just have to postpone the appointments I had scheduled today. And my secretary Elizaveta can take messages for me."

The Latvian looked up, "You mean you're staying home?"

Ivan nodded, "I can't leave you home alone if you're sick. And Toris is working today, so it leaves me here. Besides, I think another day off wouldn't be so bad, yes?"

Raivis faked a smile, "I guess not."

He was a little frustrated with himself now. He wanted to be angry at Ivan for potentially abandoning him as an infant, but he was almost grateful for the care he was recieving from him. Raivis almost fully believed Ivan cared for him genuinely.

He sat up on the couch, "Can I get my film camera?"

Ivan shook his head, "You need to sleep. You look like you're exhausted."

And indeed he was. Raivis sighed, as he lay back down, shutting his eyes to doze. He could take action tomorrow. But for now, he may as well lay it low.

Turns out Raivis didn't have a stomach flu after all. He just let his anxiety get the best of him. But still, Ivan thought otherwise. Thanks to the smoldering heat of the pillows and the heavy pajamas Raivis was wearing, he felt warmer than normal. And thus Ivan called his school to tell them he was staying home sick. And then Ivan tried to call his work to excuse himself, but ended up hanging the phone in a huff. He groaned, running a hand through his silver-blond hair, "My secretary isn't here today. I have to go to work."

"I'll be fine on my own...", he piped up from the couch, as he pretended to read the paper (he couldn't understand it, really).

Ivan gave a look that was comparable to a deer caught in headlights. He shook his head, "I can't risk anything. If I can't stay home, then I'll have to send you over to Toris' for the day."

"But I-"

"Nyet.", interrupted Ivan firmly, "You may as well get dressed and pack a bag of things to do, or your unfinished homework. I have to get dressed for work now. We'll leave in ten minutes, so head upstairs."

_But I'm fourteen! I can take care of myself!_, was what Raivis wanted to say. His face flushed with disappointment as he headed up to his room. He kind of had a feeling that he wouldn't be allowed home alone anyway. Especially since he had already freaked out Ivan by checking out the secret room. It honestly didn't seem like he would openly allow him to stay home where he could secretly try to go back into the room. Which is what he'd probably do. He needed to find more clues. Or he was treading on thin ground if he wanted to accuse Ivan of anything at all. It was like filming. You needed subject matter, and enough of it to catch an interest. To complete the piece. With enough from that room, maybe Raivis could find some answers.

Changing into a pullover sweater and pants, he trudged back down the stairs, in time to see Ivan grab a ring of various keys from a drawer, and put it in his pocket. He picked up his camera from the living room table, and put it in his satchel. He guarded that thing with his life.

Following behind Ivan, he walked over to their Lithuanian neighbor's house, everything silent and stoic. The past couple of days had been like that, more awkward than normal, and uncomfortable to go through. Ivan still felt guilty about the incident, Raivis could tell. He seemed even more watchful and high strung than normal, barely letting the boy out of his sight. It was proving to be quite irritating.

Toris answered the door, and as soon as he saw Ivan's tall form looking down at him, his smile shrank a slight degree.

"Oh, hello!", he greeted, a little too cheerfully. Ivan gave a curt nod back, as if to greet him the same, "Raivis is ill today, and I have no choice but to go back to work. I'd appreciate if you could watch him for me."

Toris' face turned apologetic, "Ivan I'm afraid I have work to do, I-"

Ivan's gaze didn't change in the slightest, which seemed to terrify the brunette internally, as his smile came back, shakily, as he gave a slight nod, "I...ah...I wouldn't mind."

The Russian gave a look of relief, and fished the ring of keys out of his pocket, handing them to Toris. He spoke quickly in Russian, too fast for Raivis to understand at all. He then spoke in English, "I must hurry now, I can't be late."

With a hasty goodbye, he walked back to his own driveway, and off he went in his car, disappearing down the road. Toris' green eyes remained fixated on the car until it was out of sight, face blank. when it was gone, he gave a smile to Raivis, a smile that seemed forced, "Perhaps we should go inside. You can lie down on the sofa if you want."

Raivis gave a nod, slightly disturbed by the sudden change of mood in Toris. The way he had acted, he looked like he was about to be bitten by a large spider hidden on his body, and was smiling to hide the fact it was going to kill him with its venom. There was definitely something about Ivan that chilled the man to the bone, and it wasn't just shyness.

Toris was working about the house for the next couple hours, as Raivis sat on the sofa, flipping through his textbooks, writing scribbled answers for the homework. It didn't matter much about the homework in the class. The teacher was verbally strict, but she didn't seem to care what he wrote on the assignments. He got A's and B's, which was good enough.

Whenever Toris passed by the living room, or to see how Raivis was doing, he'd have the same smile and tone. It looked and sounded frozen. It was a piece of evidence. That something wasn't right.

At about noon, Toris went into the kitchen to make tea. He asked if Raivis would like some, and the boy nodded. He went into the kitchen, and sat at the table, watching as the other heated the kettle, and fussed about the cupboards.

He turned and asked Raivis, "Do you like sugar in yours, or would plain tea be better for an upset stomach?"

"Plain tea, please." replied the Latvian. His stomach didn't hurt, but he tended to prefer hot tea black and bitter. He noticed Toris' smile seemed a little warmer as he went about the kitchen, and his tone a little lighter as he spoke. He seemed fine. Which Raivis didn't like at all.

"Why are you afraid of Ivan?", he suddenly asked.

Toris turned his head, as if the question was a pebble flicked at him. His face froze once again, but a second later, he shook his head, and smiled once again, "I'm not afraid of Ivan."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not.", smiled Toris, stuck in place.

"Yes."

"No. I'm not afraid of him."

"Then why are you so nervous around him?"

"I'm not nervous either, Raivis. We get along fine.", he smiled wider, going back to getting out cups for tea. He carefully poured the hot drink into the cups, steam flowing from them rapidly. He handed Raivis one, and then took a dish rag, cleaning his counter in painfully slow circles.

After a minute of silence, Raivis then asked, "Why did you not say no to him?"

Toris plopped his hand with the dish towel onto the counter firmly, a little 'fmp' noise heard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You said you had to work today, but then you changed your mind. Why?"

Toris' smile faultered for a few moments, before he spoke again, "Because you needed to be taken care of-"

"I can take care of myself. You know that."

Toris said nothing, still wiping his counter mechanically. He wasn't really smiling now.

Raivis repeated again, "You know that. You know that don't you?"

"Of course I know that.", he said very quickly, turning to face the boy. His face was blank, but his eyes showed nervousness.

Frowning, Raivis then asked, "So why didn't you say no?"

The Lithuanian's gaze averted to the ground, as he bit his lip in thought. Inside his head, Raivis grinned with a twisted satisfaction. He was caught.

"It's because you're afraid of Ivan, isn't it?"

"No.", replied the Lithuanian with adamance, starting to lose his calm.

"What are you hiding, Toris?", he asked with a louder tone.

"Nothing!", he shot back, voice having raised a little.

"What is _he_ hiding?"

"Raivis, I'm not playing any games right now, so-"

"I'm not either! You tell me what is going on! You're afraid of Ivan, and you're going to tell me why!"

"Raivis!", he nearly shouted in frustration, and he bit back another shout as he gave a breath through his nose, running a hand through his hair, "I am not afraid of Ivan, I'm-"

"Quit lying!", shouted the boy, glaring with frustrated determination, "You know something! And I'm going to find out!"

Toris shook a moment, as he sighed almost hysterically, "R-Raivis. Please believe me when I say you have been such a positive thing for Ivan in his life, and that everything is going for the better."

"I won't believe a single goddamned thing you say until you tell me what is going on! I saw the secret room in Ivan's house! I saw that baby picture! You tell me who that is! You tell me what's in that thing!"

Toris looked ready to pass out, as he weakly smiled and strained to say, "Y-your dad doesn't-"

"QUIT CALLING HIM THAT!", Raivis nearly shrieked in fury, "He's not my dad! He just adopted me!"

"But-"

"No!", he cut him off, eyes glazed in anger, "You're going to tell me what is going on!"

Toris stared at him, terrified. But then his gaze dropped as he gave another pathetic turn of the corners, "It's not...it's not my right to let you figure it out. I am sorry...but I can't."

And then it was deathly silent. There was almost a deafening roar in the silence, but it was unheard. Enraged violet eyes glanced to the kitchen counter. A glint of daring defiance. Toris was so careless it seemed, leaving those keys on the counter.

"F-fine...", nodded Raivis. Not taking his gaze off Toris, he leaped up, and lashed for the keys, grabbing them in a swoop. He rushed out of the kitchen shouting, "I'll find out myself!"

Realizing what Raivis had done, Toris ran after him in a panic, legs moving frantically out the door after him. The Latvian ran across the lawn, and up his own walkway. His neighbor was at least eight feet behind. Thanking whatever diety above that his front door was unlocked, he tore it open, leaped inside, and slammed it shut with a sound that shook the light fixture above, locking the door with a snap. Toris tugged on the door handle, and found himself locked out of Ivan's house.

"Raivis!", he shouted, banging on the door, "Raivis, damn it, open the door, right now! You're going to be very sorry when your father get's ho-...", his voice trailed away as he turned white as a sheet. This was not going to end well.

* * *

Raivis hurried up the stairs, breathing like a mad man. He stopped right in front of the lilac door, staring at its lock with a predator's focus. He leafed through the ring of keys, praying he'd find the right one. When he found the key that had a similar rigid shape, he crossed his fingers as he shoved it in, and twisted his hand. The door swung open as if it were warmly welcoming him in. The curtains by the window kept the day's light out. Stepping in, Raivis closed the door behind him, locking it. He opened the curtains the tiniest bit, just so light could filter in, and make the room's colors a little more true.

It was truly a very sweet color of violet-blue, mixed with some white to give it a pastel feel. Raivis neared closer to the bed, and saw the finer details on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. It had a ceramic base, hand painted a dark purple with little yellow stars. A small copper figure, a ballerina posed in a craned stretch sat on top of the lampshade.

To pique his curiosity, Raivis pulled back the white comforter from the closest corner, and saw flannel bedsheets with tiny lambs printed on them, the little things smiling as they pranced and leaped over fences. The bookshelf had children's books written in Cyrillic on them. A few were recognizable by the 'Cheburashka' character, some seemed like general fairy tales, and a Russian language printed version of 'Curious George' sat on the shelf somewhere. Raivis looked under the bed, and saw nothing.

He saw the closet on the wall behind him, and tore the door open. No clothes. A couple boxes sat taped up, unreadable text written on them with marker. Raivis tore one open messily, and found childish scribbles and drawings packed away, stacked neatly, and carefully. They didn't look like Ivan drew them, so the source was unknown.

Raivis then turned back towards the bed, and noticed the corner of something poking out from the pillow. He flipped the pillow over, and saw what seemed to be five greeting cards. Not like Hallmark, but almost handmade. The pictures looked like something put on a child's birthday card. Moreso, they were well drawn. Raivis noticed there was dates in the corners of the pictures, one consecutive card for the last five years. The oldest card had a picture of a teddy bear tiredly smiling at a piece of birthday cake, it's hat sagging down. The rest had similar drawings too, different animals though, in different poses. The most recent one though...it just had flowers, serious and stoic. Almost as if the animals were gone, the laughter gone away.

What caught Raivis' attention even more was the writing inside. He couldn't read any of it, except for the signature, which translated as, _Love, Papa_

_Did Ivan make these? Who are these for?_

He opened up the most recent card, which looked fairly new, and the bottom simply said, _I'm sorry, Papa_

As the terror of confusion set in, another shiver went down the trembling boy's spine as he heard the door rattle, and a lock click.

_Ivan must have a spare key._

And indeed he did. As the door swung open, he was met by two pairs of eyes. A green pair shrunk in fear, face white. And a violet pair, absolutely furious, as a smile faded away.

* * *

Raivis and Ivan's eyes remained locked for what seemed like forever, until Ivan gave a torn smile, and turned to Toris, "Didn't you get the spare key?"

Looking like he was about to cry, the other looked down, "I forgot where it was."

"Oh. I see. You forgot.", repeated Ivan, tone heavy with derision and growing anger, "You may have not been able to stop him from opening the door, but you could have stopped him from getting this far!"

"I-I'm sorry!", choked Toris, cowering in fear.

"Sorry won't fix it!", replied Ivan, nearly roaring. Raivis stared at him, terrified as he saw this nearly vicious side of Ivan. Not wanting to even guess if Toris might get hurt, he shouted, "STOP IT!"

Ivan whirled back, and stared with a frozen fury at him. Not even with Feliks had he seemed so angry. Raivis could feel his strength faltering for a few moments.

As the dreadful silence waned, Toris shuddered, and choked a sob, "I-I'll just leave now..."

Ivan gave a breathless chuckle, that sounded mirthless as a smile crookedly froze on his face, "Y-yes. Y-you should."

When the Lithuanian left, Ivan continued to stare at the boy, holding the cards in his hands. As soon as he noticed them being handled by the boy, he ordered flatly, "Put those down."

"Who are they for?"

"Put those down.", repeated Ivan louder, as he walked closer.

"Tell me who they're for!"

"They are not yours. Put them down.", he glared, eyes able to freeze water.

"No! Tell me who they're for!", demanded Raivis, far too angry to be scared now.

"I said put them down!", Ivan nearly shouted, launching his hand out to grab them away.

"TELL ME!", shouted Raivis, who tugged back forcefully as soon as the Russian pulled. One of the delicate corners of the cards tore, and everything froze. Ivan's face gazed in horror at the ruined card, and then he glared murderously at the boy, bending down to his height, glaring at him straight in the eye as he hissed in absolute fury,

"Get downstairs. As soon as I clean up this mess, you and I are going to have a talk."

Raivis glared angrily, "Does that mean you'll tell me what this is for?"

"This is not your room Raivis, or your business! Get downstairs right now!"

"No!", shouted the boy back, "You tell me!"

"Get out of here. You're grounded."

"You can't ground me until you tell me what's going on! You've lied to me enough!", and without waiting for an answer, he ducked Ivan's hand which tried to reach for his collar, and he ran into his room, slamming the door, and locking it.

"RAIVIS!", yelled Ivan. He pounded the door, and swore in Russian, "Fine! Stay in there all night for all I care! God damnit!"

"Good enough for me!", yelled the boy back. He slunk venemously under his bedsheets.

If that excuse of a father wanted war, he'd get it.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was already edging over the trees when Raivis' eyes opened. The sky was white with clouds blanketing the horizon. All meant that it was past early morning. It was probably the afternoon now. He was most definitely late for school. And Ivan was probably at work. He didn't even bother waking him up for school. That's sure making things better.

Raivis glared sullenly out the window as he sighed and pulled off his clothes from the day before, changing into a new shirt and pants. He hadn't switched into nightclothes for bed last night, crashed on the mattress already. He opened his bedroom door, and planned to head downstairs to the kitchen. He'd play hooky today, and sulk around the house today until Ivan came home. Then he'd sulk in his room with the door locked. He went down the stairs, but as he entered the living room, he immediately realized he wasn't alone.

Ivan was laying on the couch, curled to one side, eyes shut. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, and he looked rather unkempt than normal. A shotglass and empty bottle of vodka sat on the table nearby. Raivis scowled at them. He then frowned, and stated tensely, "You're supposed to be at work."

Ivan's eyelids twitched a little, as he seemed to tighten them shut for a moment. He then said monotonously, "I am not going. I am not up for it."

Raivis glanced at the vodka bottle, and spoke with derision, "That must be your vodka talking. What, you handle your problems like this?"

Ivan opened his eyed halfway, and glared, speaking with a dark tone, "Don't judge me. Don't you _ever_ judge me."

"Then why aren't you at work,_ doing your stupid job_?", he bit back. How dare Ivan tell him not to judge, when he was constantly doing the same things to him.

Ivan's face momentarily twitched, as if he were about to lose it, but he was able to repress it, as he swallowed, and said with a bitterly calm tone, "I must remain in the correct state of mind to work in my environment."

Raivis sneered, "Funny how you can't handle a normal person like me, but you can sweet-talk people like them!"

That comment almost made Ivan want to backhand the boy into the wall, but he simply gave a very furious glare, and warned darkly, "You watch your mouth, boy. You don't understand what it's like for them to-"

"Oh. Oh, okay, now I see.", interrupted Raivis, smiling fakely, "You get to go and make assumptions and judgements about other people, but if I dare do the same, I'm condemned. You pretend that you understand me, but you don't understand me at all."

Ivan ran his hand through his hair in frustration, as he sat up, "Raivis, what the hell does that have to do with-"

"But you could maybe have understood me then, if you hadn't fucking abandoned me!", Raivis spat, eyes blazing.

The Russian gave an indignant look, "_Excuse me_?"

"I know who you are, Ivan. I know why you adopted me.", he smiled almost maniacally, voice seething with fury.

Ivan's anger seemed to fade a little, as he gave a confused look, "Y-you-"

"You got careless as a teen, didn't you? You didn't want me, so you left me to my mom, who had nowhere to leave me when she died, and you wanted no part in it. But what, did you get some arrest warrant or something, and you wanted to prove yourself a family man? So you went around looking for the blonde kid with purple eyes, and get him back home, so you could be some single parent? Because you were probably thinking, 'Purple eyes don't come by that often, I'll be able to pick him out!' And congratulations, you did! I saw that photo, Ivan! I know it's me! IT HAS TO BE! You decided to actually do something right, and try to be there for me? Well too late! You should have done that fourteen years ago!"

The room was left in complete silence, minus Raivis' harsh breathing as he glared angrily at Ivan who looked absolutely mortified. Raivis, for a twisted moment, almost wanted to grin. It seems he had finally trapped his treacherous father.

But Ivan chuckled. It was not a good one. Or an evil one. It was a sad one.

"Raivis...", he sighed sadly, "I'm afraid you're terribly mistaken."

"What?", he whirled back, face indignant.

"As much as I'd like to affirm your suspicions, they are not true. I'm not your actual father. It is not possible, because I never fathered a son."

"T-then who are you?"

He gave a slightly sympathetic look, as he blankly breathed, "I am simply a lonely man who adopted you. Our similarities; they are just coincidence. I'm sorry."

Raivis stared at him longer. He felt his stomach drop as he gazed into Ivan's 100% honest eyes. He was telling the truth. He had been so certain...

He gave a manic smile, and he giggled, "I...I was so sure...so sure that I'd found him. I thought I'd finally found the no good, dirty bastard who left me to nothing. I thought I'd finally gotten the chance to tell him how much I _hated_ him for causing me to end up in the orphanage. I THOUGHT I'D FOUND HIM!", he shrieked angrily, grabbing at his hair.

Ivan's shattered look wasn't going to calm Raivis down from this tirade, and neither was the Russian man's broken reply of, "...R-Raivis, I'm so sorry, I-"

"You shut up!", he snarled angrily, jabbing a finger at Ivan's chest, "You shut up, and tell me who that picture is!"

Ivan's face paled, as he tried to find the words. His eyes were like that of a glass doll's; wide and glazed.

"I..."

"WHO IS IT?", the boy demanded. Ivan looked like he was about to fall apart, starting to tremble like Raivis. How coincidentally alike they were.

He finally choked, an apologetic smile on his face, "I can't tell you."

Raivis stared at him indignantly, and his face contorted into that of something between disgust and absolute fury. He shrieked, "You fucking psycho!"

Ivan visibly winced from these words, giving a hurt, pleading look for Raivis to stop. But the boy snarled, continuing in a hiss, "I-I let you do what you wanted with me, so you could 'understand' me. A-and I thought for some time, maybe you did. But you don't. You never will. You won't tell me anything, and you...you're a _freak_. How can you expect to understand me, if I can't even understand _you_?"

The other was already trying to fight back tears, as he began to plead, "Raivis, please listen to me, I-"

"SHUT UP, I HATE YOU!", he roared, causing Ivan to go white, and sit slack on the couch. Not even waiting for another second for Ivan to recompose himself, he stormed upstairs, and into his bedroom, slamming the door locked shut.

Enraged, he dove onto his bed, to scream into his pillow. But it had fallen on the floor. He looked up at his posters, sitting there, like they were proud of his failing, and mocking him. In blind rage, he clutched his precious Kubrick poster, and tore it off the wall, sending thumbtacks flying. He flung it across the room with a shriek.

A few minutes later, when he had gained enough sense, he saw he had torn it through the corner, ripping down the right side. He had ruined it. His most prized possession. The symbolic coat of arms for his passion of film. It was tarnished. Horrified, he burst into hysterical crying, almost certain that Ivan was going to come upstairs, and hold him, and tell him everything was going to be alright. He honestly, at this moment, wouldn't have cared. He still hated him, but he wouldn't have minded being cared for.

But alas, the Russian was still frozen in terror, shattered to pieces on the living room couch. Strange thing was, he wasn't crying, screaming, or walking around in a daze. He just sat there. Which proved it affected him.

Because for once, he did nothing at all.

* * *

Raivis had remained in his room for the rest of the day, not even going down to eat. His appetite was dead. He remained curled on the bed, eventually falling asleep in the late afternoon, absolutely disheveled. He didn't feel like he was in a bedroom anymore, he felt like he was in a dead zone.

He was woken up at about 9pm when he heard his doorknob jiggling and a small knock. A second later, a soft, tired voice called out weakly, "Raivis?"

He didn't shout a response back. He just glared at the door, to show his displeasure in case Ivan tried anything. A pound on the door, a loud demand to open it, a threat, or even a harsh remark. But nothing.

Instead, a few minutes later, Raivis could hear footsteps go down the hall quietly. A soft click of Ivan's bedroom door was heard, and this confirmed it for Raivis. He had won this war. But it was truly a bitter victory.

The next morning, for once, Raivis was acknowledgably alone. Ivan wasn't in the house. He knew this, because he had been awake the whole night, and heard the Russian go downstairs, and out the door for work. About five minutes after he had left, Raivis got dressed and got his bag together for school, walking out the door. He didn't bother with breakfast, even though his stomach had been empty for a full day.

The walk to school was tedious, as the weather was getting colder, and it was at least twenty blocks away. Thank God he hadn't made that questionable left turn, or he would have gotten hopelessly lost.

When he finally walked up to the school, Eduard was standing in the schoolyard. He looked up, and waved hello to Raivis as he walked up.

He smiled a little, "Were you sick the last few days?

Raivis nodded. He unwrinkled one of his scrunched up jacket sleeves, and yawned. It was going to be quite difficult to get through the day, it seemed.

Before they could talk about anything else, the bell rang. As they walked into the school, Raivis asked curiously, "Is it possible I could stay at your place for a few days?"

Eduard raised an eyebrow, "Hm? How come?"

The other sighed tiredly, "I had a bad fight with Ivan. I'm not too keen on returning home for a while."

The other's eyes widened, "He didn't hurt you did he?"

"...No, not really."

Raivis felt the slightest bit of guilt as he said to himself, _I think it was the other way around._

Eduard gave a small nod, "I'll call my mother at lunchtime, and see if she'll let you stay over."

And that gave Raivis a bit of hope. Maybe he wouldn't have to face Ivan for a while.

Class, as usual, was incredibly boring. Raivis barely stayed awake as the teacher droned on. At one point, he_ thought _she had addressed him, but he could have cared less. At this moment, there were too many things that made him hate his life.

It was only at lunchtime that Raivis finally realized he was starving. He took a large bite of the potato stew they were given. It tasted cheap, but he was too hungry to care. But still, it made him hate that he was wishing for a homecooked meal now. He was frustrated with the fact that he could still appreciate Ivan's cooking.

Eduard finally sat down, and he sighed, "Sorry Raivis. I just called my mother, and she said no."

Suddenly, Raivis regretted eating his lunch so fast. His stomach knotted up as he sighed. It looks like he wasn't going to avoid this as long as expected.

Groaning, he thunked his head against the table, "I want to go back..."

"Back? But I thought you didn't want to go home-"

"I mean, back to New York.", Raivis said flatly, stabbing at the remains of his food with the fork, "Things haven't been much better for me here."

Eduard gave a slightly hurt look, "But if you leave, who am I going to eat lunch with?"

"I don't know.", groaned Raivis, "Whoever you hung out with before I came here?"

"Nobody did.", replied the Estonian quietly, looking at the table.

Raivis felt a little guilty as he saw the sad frown on the other's face. Turns out he might have been Eduard's only friend this whole time.

Eduard then looked up, "Besides, I think some of the others here will miss you. I mean, that one girl Sophie might."

"The one from Monaco?"

Eduard nodded, "She's definitely checking you out I think."

Raivis gave a smirk, and chuckled tiredly, "That's a definite first."

They both laughed a little, and sighed. Raivis' was a little hollow, but he did feel a little eased here in the lunchroom. He didn't realize it just yet, but he owed a lot to Eduard. He might have given up on school and making friends much earlier if it hadn't been for him.

Much to his chagrin, the afternoon sailed by all too quickly. He walked out front, and saw no car waiting for him. He sighed, knowing it would be a long walk home.

He shuffled his feet along the road slowly, staring straight ahead as if he were headed straight for the execution room. A long walk down the stone hall, the 'Green Mile', or death row.

Surprisingly it seemed a shorter time to get home than it did to school. Ivan's car was not in the driveway. Raivis looked at his digital watch, and noted Ivan wouldn't be home for another fifteen minutes. He sighed and fished a spare key out of his pocket, unlocking the door, and walking inside.

He didn't know how he was going to feel once the Russian man got home. If anything, he'd just go up to his room, do his homework, and maybe Ivan would put leftovers outside his door. Raivis rubbed his forehead, and went to the kitchen to grab a snack- crackers maybe- anything he could keep in his room, so he wouldn't starve. He had another reason to be angry with Ivan now; thanks to him, Raivis was a prisoner to his own room.

He looked in the cupboard and found a box of what seemed to be graham crackers or cookies. A smiling koala was on the box, words written in Cyrillic. It kind of bugged Raivis now; how childish Ivan was, buying things like this. This was a semi-good reason to hate him.

But still, it was just food. He'd be careful not to leave crumbs, and attract ants in his room. But then again, they might be good film specimens...if Raivis ever picked up his camera again. Taking the box, he was about to head out of the kitchen when something caught his eye.

A manila folder sat on the table where they usually ate. Red ink on the front read, "Raivis". Curiously, he went over and picked it up. It felt like it was thick with some paper. Intent to read it, he took it upstairs with the crackers. He sat on the bed, to make himself comfortable, and munched on one of the little koala shaped biscuits. He opened the folder, and stared blankly at the paper stack in front of him.

It was a letter, at least seven pages long. In Ivan's handwriting, fancy English, cursive handwriting. And judging by the looks of it, it had been written within the last few days.

Feeling anticipation dropping into his stomach, Raivis let his eyes move to the top, and scan each and every word carefully.

And after scanning a few lines mindlessly, he decided to start reading.

_Raivis,_

_It has finally dawned on me that you are right. I have made attempts to understand you, even going so far as to go through your private works (accidentally, but even so...) but have denied you the same. And I am sorry._

_I truly have wished to do this, but it isn't something I can explain through spoken words correctly. I have considered telling you about them, maybe sitting down and just sharing every single thing, but I would have never been able to. Some things, I just cannot say, because they are too painful. I legitimately feel pained when I speak of such things, and I did not want you to see that. You would have worried about me, but it is my job as a parent to worry about you, not the other way around. It seems that through my actions, I have failed with that._

_Which is why I am writing this._

_When you turn this page, you will be peering into my world._


	11. Ivan's Letter Pt 1

_According to my elder sister, I was a 'surprise' baby. Meaning my birth was unplanned, and what's more, my parents had expected another girl. So when they ended up with a boy, they were a little disappointed. My mother grew to love me, and I loved her back. My father, he was different. He had been quite unhappy that he had a son (it's sacrilegious to hear this, I know.) I think it was because he felt I'd never live up to his expectations, or I might never be like him. I had been born very small, and very weak. He hadn't expected me to even live one day. But I did. Yet, he still wasn't proud. Because I was so small, it was hard to help around the house. My baby sister was taller than me at age five when she was three._

_I have two sisters. Yetkaterina, or as I call her Katyusha, is my elder one, five years older than me. And Natalia is my younger sister, born when I was two. I love both of them very much, and care for them. Both my parents loved my sisters, lavishing them with attention it seemed. My father, he loved both my sisters unconditionally, but as for me, it seemed I had to work for his attention or care._

_When I was very small, I remember my father would play with Natalia on his knee. When I tried to climb on too, or get his attention, maybe to ask for a story read, he'd frown and tell me to go play with my mother or sister, or ask me if I had anything better to do besides bother him. This made me sad sometimes, but I got used to it. Whenever it made me sad, I'd go to my mother. Sometimes she'd be gardening, and had me help her. The spring when I was five, she had planted some new flowers that she hadn't ever thought of growing before. I had been focused on watering daisies, because they were smaller than me. But when the flowers first sprouted, it was amazing. In my entire five year life, I had not seen something so tall and beautiful like the sunflowers. They were almost like stars or the actual sun to me, because they were too high for me to touch the petals. Every day, when my mother went out to the garden, I'd go along, and carry the watering can. I'd tip it onto each mound of soil, brush the dirt a little, to help it soak in, and I'd snuggle right into my mother as she picked me up so I could smile right in the flowers' faces._

_I remember asking my mother how something so tall could come from something as tiny as a seed, and she simply said that they were given the proper love to grow. She had told me that one day, I'd be taller than her, because she loved me so much. I think she loved me the most out of the family._

_When I was eight, my mother was driving me home from school after a particularly rough day. It had been quite rainy, and I remember the sky being dark. I don't remember too much of what happened, but I remember seeing the blinding lights, and my mother grabbing me, squeezing me into her arms as I felt myself getting smushed into the seat. Then it was dark._

_When I had woken up, I was in the hospital. My legs hurt very badly, and my nose was bandaged. I didn't know until later that day, but a wrong-way driver had crashed into the car. My mother's first instinct was to protect me, and indeed she did. Had she not have shielded me, I would have been crushed by the impact. But in exchange of my life, there was her own. She was dead before the ambulance had even arrived._

_I had suffered a compressed spine, and for the next few months, I couldn't walk very well. I spent about three weeks in the hospital to recover. My older sister visited me after schooldays, but that was it. My father never even checked on me. He blamed me for my mother's death, believing if she hadn't sheilded me from the impact, she might still have been alive._

_Being in the hospital started out as being miserable. I was alone, and the person who loved me the most was gone forever. Death was a particularly difficult concept for me to understand. Not ever seeing my mother again seemed like a joke. A cruel, mean joke._

_I might have just about been completely lost in that place. But about five days in, I met Lily._

_She was much younger than me, maybe only about six or seven years old, with bright blonde hair, and green eyes. So pretty for a little girl. She had shared my room with me until I left the hospital. She was very sweet, but something had seemed off about her when I met her. She wouldn't make eye contact, and she barely responded to me. She also seemed to talk to herself. Not like mumbling, but full out sentences, or she'd laugh, make odd noises, or cry. I remember when I first observed this, I laughed, finding it so strange. Her older brother Vash had yelled at me, thinking I was making fun of her, and I immediately felt sorry._

_Soon enough, as the days went on, I learned more about Lily. She was in the hospital awaiting a heart transplant, and was going to be there for much longer than I was. Finally, after some time, thinking maybe he wouldn't be mad at me anymore for laughing, I asked Lily's brother why she acted so different. He told me she had autism, and couldn't socialize properly. I hadn't ever heard of it before, and at first I thought it was some dangerous disease I might catch. I panicked, wondering what on earth it could be, and for the next several days, I 'quarantined' Lily. I think her brother caught on, as one day, when visiting his sister, he chucked a library book at me. It was a book that explained autism to children. I read it, and it got me even more interested. Vash was reluctant, but he eventually helped me learn how to communicate with Lily._

_Soon I was out of the hospital, but I spent the next few weeks out of school to get used to a wheelchair and crutches. It really was a pain for me, and I did try to walk sometimes, but my legs would give out. Not being able to move much, I spent time sitting in my wheelchair, reading about things that interested me. And now, one thing I looked into deeper was autism. I'd learn something new, and I'd then go to visit Lily. Sometimes when her brother wasn't there, I'd read her my books, or color pictures with her (she didn't really color them, but I think she liked it all the same), and I'd tell her stories. Whenever her brother was there too, he'd watch me closely, as if he were judging how I interacted with his sister. Soon, I was sent back to school with crutches and a leg brace. As much as I got teased, I got used to it. But with school factoring in, I really couldn't visit the hospital anymore._

_I think it was about a month later, that I learned Lily had died. Her heart transplant had complications and failed. I remember asking my father if I could go to her funeral. He scolded me for 'crying over someone I barely knew' and said the funeral would have been a waste of time for me._

_I did however end up getting a letter from Vash. I was actually rather scared, since he seemed to always be suspicious of me. But in his letter, he had thanked me for spending time with his sister, and being her friend. He said he could tell that she liked me very much. That part made me cry too, because until then, I had been thinking that Lily might not have known about me at all._

_But still, my friendship with Lily drove me to learn more about people with autism, and how I could understand them. Because when I finally knew that Lily had been a mutual friend for me, I realized there was a way to communicate, and understand people like her. It was very different, but it made me feel like I wanted to help._

_It must sound strange, a child who wanted to be a special doctor without their parent's coaxing or expectation playing part. But it was what I wanted to do. Besides becoming a figure skater and growing a sunflower farm. Figure skating ended with me breaking my ankle when I was thirteen, and sunflowers...by researching figures, they didn't exactly sell well. But both those are still my hobbies, and being a psychiatrist is my job and niche._

_I told my father what I wanted to be when I grew up, and he didn't care. Because I was still so young, I couldn't fully understand why my father wasn't proud of me. I thought that it was because he didn't think I'd be smart enough to do anything, or what I pursued. So I would push myself to excel in school. I hoped that if I'd done well, and my teachers told Father that I was a bright child or one of the smartest in the class, he might be proud of me._

_When my sisters were small, they'd be allowed to put their best work on our icebox or the cork billboard in Father's study. I sometimes got 100%'s on my spelling tests or math exams, and when I'd ask him, he'd tell me, "Maybe later.", or "There's not enough room." Whenever I put them up in secret, I'd see they were taken down by the next morning. I think out of all the papers I put up, only one remained on the refrigerator. Only because Natalia's poem on autumn covered it up. Not even the Father's day card I drew stayed on the billboard very long._

_When I was fourteen, a class I was taking required us to write a tiered essay on a topic of our choice. This was my chance to prove myself to Father. Using all my knowledge and research, I wrote a report on autism, and what could be observed from it. I had used many examples from informational movies and books I had read, and I described my friendship with Lily. I was nervous turning it in, but I can remember how excited I was when the teacher read it out loud in front of my class, declaring it an outstanding effort and product. I remember seeing the positive comments she had written below it, and the grade of 100%. It made me feel light enough to fly. I immediately took it home, and set it on Father's desk._

_I sank very much like a stone when I saw that he had moved it off to the side, using it as a coaster for his mug. When I picked it up, there was a coffee ring stained into it. I asked him about it, and he said he didn't bother reading it. That was the first time, in a long time, that I actually burst into tears. Before he could even say anything, I just stormed off to my room. Yetkaterina came to cheer me up, and she gifted me a scarf she had made. You often see me wearing it, Raivis._

_Yetkaterina and I don't speak too much anymore. Too many situations have come up between us, and it's for the best that we keep distance. I use the scarf often to remind me that we are still connected, not completely broken. Unlike my other sister. I love my other sister very much, but she was...very possessive. When I was a young adult, she kept trying to interfere with many of my personal deals, and was very aggressive about my other relationships. Three years ago, I had to ask her not to contact me again. Surprisingly, she didn't argue. I felt awful, but I truly hope she is doing well._

_But anyway, going back to my father; that incident is what made me realize that I would never impress him, and that I wasn't going to gain unconditional love from him, or even conditional love. Just a begrudging tolerance and coldness._

_So for the next few years, I didn't try to compete for his attention. I simply went on with my life. I did my best in school, to get the grades I needed for college and becoming a psychiatrist. Because I had prepared myself well enough for it, I took internships for credit, and experience._

_My relationship with my father didn't get any better. In fact, I think it got worse. When I stopped trying to make him proud, he seemed to get colder. Whenever he told me to do something, I just did it so he'd stop asking me. Whenever we exchanged things, it was in bitter silence. When he finally got the message, he did not appreciate it. I felt I was disrespecting authority with my 'attitude'. This brought on many disagreements and arguments._

_When I was seventeen, we got into a heated fight. I forget what it was about...But...It was then, that I finally told Father how he didn't care for me, and how I was tired of trying to make him proud. I said some other things that were either overexaggerated or brutally truthful, and it ended with him striking me across the face. That was the first time he actually initiated physical contact with me._

_And that was enough for me to leave home. Or moreso, after he hit me, he told me to get out of his house by morning. I took whatever was in my backpack, my art supplies, my books, my scarf, and spared money. I also took the keys to Father's car. That night, I drove away with his car, not even thinking of going back. For the record, this is the only time I have ever stolen someone else's property._

_I drove it to some rural community about thirty miles from my home. Because it was the beginning of summer, I didn't have to worry about missing school. That summer, I lived out of the car. I'd buy food, and sleep in the backseat. As you can imagine, using a car as a house can end with it getting very worn. But as a home, I grew attatched to it. Which is why I still use it in the driveway today._

_When school was going to start up, I was left with a predicament. I wouldn't survive living out of my car for a whole school year, especially since I would need a guardian to keep my credit valid. I was very lucky to have friends in school though. Toris, my classmate then, took pity on me (I was too roughed up to care), and his family invited me into their home. For that next year, he was my surrogate brother._

_For some time, I didn't see Father. I think he was trying to find me though, as he had sent a letter demanding I pay for the car I stole from him. I tore it up. Then one day afterschool, he confronted me. He went on a tirade about how I was an ungrateful leech, and that I was lucky he cared for me at all. That was most definitely the final straw, as I seemed to finally shut him up by recounting all the things he never blessed me with like he did with my sisters, and how the only reason he cared about them more than me was that I was simply the unwanted child for him. I descriptively told him how much I hated myself as a child for not making him happy, and how everything I had done was for his approval. To finish it, I told him I never wanted to see him again, and that he could forget he even had me, because I wasn't going to acknowledge him._

_And I never did see him again after that. Visually. When I was about twenty, I got a birthday card from him, but I never opened it. Then there was a Christmas card the following year, with a wrapped parcel. I threw the card away, envelope sealed, and the parcel is shoved in a closet somewhere. For a few more years, occassional letters followed, or wrapped gifts, which I haven't opened or viewed. But then, a couple of years ago, they'd finally stopped. I do not know if he had given up, or if he had died. Yetkaterina hadn't spoken to him in years it seems, as she once told me he just shut himself away in his house. But that was the last I had heard of him. I haven't spoken to my father in at least ten years._

_Now that I'm thinking, I believe the main reason Father and I never got along was because he didn't take the time to understand me. Because I was unwanted, he never even tried._

_Raivis, I never want you to feel unwanted or that my love for you is faulty. Even if you were my own child, I'd love you just the same. As a parent, my love should be unconditional. I'm sorry if I ever made you think otherwise._

_As I explain things further, don't be hindered by any facts given. They cannot, and will not ever effect how much I love you._

_Because love is both shared and hoarded equally._

* * *

**So, for those wondering who Ivan's father is, it is indeed General Winter. As for his mama...I dunno, Kievan Rus? **

**Part two of Ivan's letter is next. A lot of drama and feels. And yes, I did just use Switzerland and Liechtenstein. Whaddya gonna do 'bout it?**


	12. Ivan's Letter Pt2

_Living with another family proved to be a very different experience. Toris' parents were both very kind and loving. I think they cared for me as one of their own children. I do keep in contact with them still, they are wonderful people. But it didn't seem as though I had to prove myself to anyone now except for myself. Because my new family accepted me for who I was._

_I think I forgot to mention it, but when I was reaching grade school age, I grew like a weed, once being the shortest child, now a full head taller than the others. This intimidated many children, who grew afraid of me, even those who once bullied me. And so I sometimes had difficulties keeping friends. I knew so much about a disorder like autism, but I barely knew a thing about making friends. I was so lucky to have Toris, because he seemed to understand my predicament._

_The only thing that made things a little difficult was Feliks, Toris' boyfriend then. He had been skeptical of me living in Toris' home, since he didn't trust me from the beginning. My running away from home, living out of a car, and family background made him suspicious of me. He made it clear that he was watching me, and he was waiting for me to slip up._

_In my last year of high school, I applied for university to earn a degree in children's psychiatry, where I could specialize in autistic cases if I wanted. And I was accepted, which was a great accomplishment for me. Because I was beginning to get on sturdier founding, I was able to do more things a normal teen could do._

_One of these was falling in love._

_At seventeen, I had met a girl who was a recent transfer from a film college in Canada (you would have loved to meet her, I think). Her name was Marguerite, but I called her Meg, since it was easier to say. She was quite lovely, with very radiant dark blonde pigtails, and the darkest of indigo eyes. They barely looked violet, they were so intriguing. She was terribly shy when I first met her, but she had a hidden feistiness._

_We took an art class together, and we would comment on each other's art. Sometimes we could be particularly brute with our critiques, but I must say, it helped me improve my work greatly. I think there's a little bit of Meg in my artwork now, as I can still imagine her laughing at my so called 'phoned-in foreshortening'._

_I started dating Meg not too long after we met, and we fell madly in love. It felt great to know somebody was actually in love with you (if you have a girlfriend now, you might agree). But as successful as we both were with our pursuits and talents, we were both very naive. We forgot how susceptible to things we were at such a young age._

_Shortly after graduation, we weren't thinking straight, and we took things too far. We were stupid and wreckless, and because of a careless mistake, she became pregnant._

_All of a sudden, innocence seemed to slip away, as we realized our actions had consequences. Not only were we stuck with impending parenthood, getting pregnant when unmarried was viewed very badly in our community. Parents were thought to be teaching their children better, and because of my father, they were beginning to think I was a wreckless delinquent._

_At first, I thought of breaking up with Meg, and leaving her with the baby, but I realized I could never be that heartless. I loved Meg too much to leave her. I promised myself to stay devoted to her. But then there was the baby._

_For the next several months, I was adamant about trying to convince Meg to put the baby up for adoption, and she seemed to be unsure. I thought maybe they would get a new family somewhere._

_But then I remembered my father. He had never wanted me in the first place, and I can almost imagine him arguing with my mother while I lay snuggled in her belly. Had my father had his way, I might have been placed in an orphanage or I might not be alive at all. Just by not wanting the child, I was becoming like my father. I realized I had to own up to my mistakes. I wanted this baby to have a loving family, and I was going to be part of it. Nobody could criticize me for that, now could they? I promised Meg I'd be a good father to our baby, and she agreed to keep it._

_Not wanting to burden Toris' family, I rented an apartment for me and Meg to live in. My father was foolish, and didn't cut me off immediately from family finances, so the money in my bank account was still available to me. Trying to keep up with college and preparing for a baby was difficult, but I got by. As the weeks went on, I grew exicted at the prospect of raising a family. I thought that Meg and I would be together for as long as time would allow._

_It was in late fall that I began a student teaching job with the special needs class at your school. I felt very nervous the first few weeks, as I thought I wouldn't have enough knowledge to teach the children. And even with all the statistics and studies I learned, it was difficult. It took me a long time to realize that understanding the children was important, as it wasn't just about knowing everything about their disabilities, it was to know them as a person too._

_Shortly after I took up my teaching job, my child was born; a little girl. I had missed the birth itself, unfortunately, as I was caught up with student-teacher assignments and a lecture from my professors about an assignment missing. But as soon as I was free, I ran as fast as I could to the hospital._

_When I got there, the hospital bed was empty, while beside it slept my daughter in a bassinet. I asked the doctor where Meg was, and they told me that she had left shortly after the baby was born, checking out immediately. I ran home to find that she had taken most of her things, and left behind only a note that said, "Sorry." Thanks to a phone call from an airline, I learned she flew back to Canada. I guess she just couldn't handle the idea of raising a baby. I don't know. I haven't heard from her since she left. All I can say now is that she owes me a large fee of child support._

_Nevertheless, I was heartbroken. She had left me with unclosed emotions, and no explanation. I felt so lost. But she didn't leave me empty handed._

_She left me my Anastasia._

_She was a beautiful child. Not just beautiful as in 'they're a baby, so they're automatically beautiful', but legitimately so. Most babies are born bald, red, and wrinkly, but she was born with a bright face, tiny blonde curls and large violet eyes. I couldn't believe she was my child. How something so amazing could come from someone like me is what baffled me._

_I knew people would suggest me giving her up for adoption, so she'd have a mother. But I couldn't. As soon as she stared at me for the first time, I knew that I didn't want to share her with anyone else. She was mine._

_It was a bit of a struggle for the next few months, as I couldn't attend my teaching job regularly. I had to enlist the help of a midwife and Yetkaterina to make sure Anna was getting the full care she needed. Because without Meg, I was alone, and it would have been impossible. Let me just say that there was many sleepless nights._

_Anna created a big change in my life. I had another responsibility, which was a challenge I took on, and I think I was successful with._

_Also, my Anna made it possible for me to temporarily appreciate winter again. That season had always been my least favorite, as it reminded me of my father, cold and unpleasant overall, and the dreariness it brought. One morning, during a snowfall, I took Anastasia outside for fresh air. I stopped by my favorite park, to sit where I always liked to when it was dreary. There was a bench overlooking a pond where swans occasionally swam. I decided to look out at the pond for a while. Try to imagine a tall, thick-built man like me cradling a fragile, tiny infant. It's almost humorous. But as the weather got colder, Anna started crying, and as I tried to keep her warm, she wouldn't stop. Finally, I tried to distract her, as I pointed to the snowflakes dancing in the air, and said "Look, baby girl! It's your first snow!" As soon as she saw the snowflakes, her eyes went wider than space, as she stopped crying, and started smiling. And her smile made me smile too. Because she was so innocent and pure. I couldn't understand why I had been blessed with her._

_As she grew slowly, day by day, week by week, month by month, I taught her how to speak words, how to walk, basic things for a child. I gave her books to read, and to my amazement, by two years old, she was reading by herself.I drew pictures for her, and she'd try to draw them back. I looked forward to seeing her go off to school, and become an amazing student. I would tell her how proud I was of her, and how I'd always be supporting her._

_But suddenly, when she was about three, she just...shut down. She stopped reading, she stopped talking, and she began wetting herself again. Her pediatrician said it was probably just a phase, but I was able to figure out that it wasn't that. It was something worse. I studied Anna very carefully, and grew nervous as I saw many patterns that I was familiar with studying, and seeing in students._

_Anna would flap her hands often, and would shake her head as if she was saying 'yes' or 'no' at random times. If a certain noise was made, she'd withdraw and scream. She stacked her books in odd orders._

_And unfortunately, I knew why._

_It's one thing to specialize in austistic children, but imagine learning you had a child with it. I can tell you, that it is absolutely horrifying. I had to realize that many things I had dreamed for Anna might not happen, and that the job I specialized in would be a part of my personal life as well. I was scared; scared that I would end up percieving my daughter as another student. I feared I wouldn't be able to communicate with her when she got older._

_Because of this, I decided to transfer my job from the school to a clinic I had been an intern at. I bought a house, moving out of my apartment. Finishing college, I got my degree, allowing me to accept actual patients and clients. The hours were easier for me to work with, so I was able to be at home more often. When I couldn't, Anna would go to a daycare for special needs, where I would pick her up. If I couldn't, Toris, now my neighbor, would take her home for me. He was Anna's godfather, if you were wanting to know. And I guess it would be appropriate to say that he is technically your godfather too..._

_Just as I feared that I never would be able to communicate with my child, I noticed that she still took a liking to drawing. She caught details and realistic refinements that were uncommon for her age. I hung her drawings up on the wall, and people would assume that they were drawn by a older child. They didn't believe me when I said she was three, going on four._

_Just before she turned four, I found a way to communicate. I had been working one day, when my telephone rang. Anna began to talk in Russian very monotonously and rapidly, but it was clear. I thought it was coincidence, but when it rang again, she talked again. Then about three minutes later, she said, 'ring ring'. I asked her what she was doing, and she said it again. That's when I realized it. She usually sat by where the phone was situated, and she observed that whenever it rang, I answered it, and talked into it. To test my theory, I said, "hello?", and she started talking._

_So from then on, to talk, one of us would say 'ring ring' and the other would respond, as if we were talking on the telephone. Because of this, I was able to communicate with my daughter once again. Not as normally as you'd think, but I was at least able to understand her better than I would have without our 'telephone'. I was able to show her how to garden, to draw flowers, and I was able to get her to read her favorite books out loud to me._

_She was mine for only five wonderful years._

_On her fifth birthday, a Tuesday if I remember correctly, I had to work, and so she stayed at daycare. My appointments wouldn't end until later in the afternoon, so I had requested Toris pick her up at the end of the day, and take her home._

_That morning, I kissed her goodbye, as usual, as a daycare assistant held her hand, and I drove off to work. All during work, I planned on maybe stopping by a bakery to buy her a cake, or buying her some art supplies as a present. I had made a card for her, and it was sitting in an envelope on my desk._

_My thoughts were interrupted by a call from Toris. He told me that Anna wasn't out with the pick-up attendant. I told him that she was probably still in the day-care room, and that he could pick her up in there. Only two minutes later, he called back, saying that the room was empty. The pick-up attendant hadn't seen her that afternoon when he checked the children._

_Knowing something was wrong, I met up with Toris very quickly, and we looked around the daycare to see if Anna had wandered off to play. It was only when there was no sign of her that I began to panic. We asked the other children if they had seen her. They said they had seen her throughout the day, but not during pick up. Finally, one of the children said they saw her get into a yellow car which drove away right before the pick-up attendant came by._

_This followed with a call to the police, who sent out a report to look for the car. As soon as it was labeled a child-abduction case, I cried._

_For many days, we searched the area for her, for any sign of where they took her. Days turned into months. I remained hopeful that she would be found. I remained reclusive, praying at home. I didn't want to be the one to find her body, or I might have completely lost touch with the world. Three months after Anna disappeared, Feliks suddenly had me arrested by the police working on the case._

_He had accused me of kidnapping or murdering my own child. His reasons were absurd, claiming that my behavior during the investigation was suspicious. His motive was to get me in prison so he could be with Toris. He seemed to forget that I was twenty minutes away. Thus, the charges were dropped, and I was cleared. Toris cut ties with Feliks, making the other hate me even more. And to this day, he still believes I am the criminal._

_And to this day, after five whole years, we have not found my daughter. I do not know if she is dead, alive, healthy, ill...I know nothing, except that she is still missing. But since, I have painfully accepted that she is most likely never to return._

_A year after she disappeared, the police called off the searches. On that same day, I locked her bedroom door. I couldn't bear looking into it any more. It made my life feel more painful and empty than I could bear, other than knowing I won't ever see her grow up, go to school, or follow her aspirations. I couldn't look at her drawings on the wall anymore, so I took them down. I still feel the emptiness today, but I'm praying that it will slowly start to heal._

_Every year, on the anniversary of Anna's disappearance; her birthday, I put effort into creating a card for her, and I put it in her room. I then paint a small sunflower on my mailbox. One for each year she has been missing. She would be ten years old now. I then sit in her room for a while, looking out to the hallway, as if to wait for her to come home. It all sounds so very strange, but I try to think of it as the healing process._

_For the last few years, there has been no new leads on the case. The tip line we had set up has nothing arriving. I hired a private investigator, who arrives by my house every few weeks or calls to simply let me know that he has found nothing. I have not acknowledged him to you because I didn't want you worrying. The phonecalls and visits from the investigator are not because I am in trouble, Raivis, they are simply for regular updates on the otherwise dead case._

_Toris hasn't been the same since that day. He'd become very guilt ridden, because he was the one who was supposed to pick Anna up that day. I do not blame him one bit for what had happened, and I'm sorry he feels so terrible about it. He shows discomfort around me, as you can see, and it is because he simply feels self-shame. I wish he didn't feel this way, but I cannot control his emotions._

_I may not ever know what happened to my Anastasia, but I pray that wherever she is, she is happy and safe. And that will make me happy enough to continue on with my life._

_And this, Raivis, is where I explain your adoption. I had flown to New York to merely consider adopting a child. I didn't want to feel the emptiness anymore, and I simply had wanted to smile again. I wanted to move on, to prove I could still be the same person. I initially didn't want to pretend that my past life hadn't existed, but I ended up fooling myself. But Raivis, let me clarify something once and for all. Because you changed my motives for everything._

_I did not adopt you to replace my lost child. Anna was a unique gift, and can never be replaced._

_I did not adopt you as a patient, or a research project._

_I adopted you because I saw so much of myself in you._

_That day I met you in the park, even though I didn't know you were an orphan just then, I realized you were something unique. You were scraggly, but firmly standing your ground. I was impressed by how devoted you were to your camera, and the passionate air you had while carrying it._

_I thought it was almost a star-destined fate that you lived in the orphanage where I visited. I saw you sitting on your bed, and immediately thought back to when I was a child sitting in my room, isolated from everyone else. You were almost a complete recluse it seemed, until I mentioned the posters on your wall. You got excited, I could see it in your face as you talked about Kubrick, and 'Space Odyssey', and your film camera. Your mindset was unshakable, as you knew what you wanted to do with your life. Just as I did with mine._

_We had so many similarities Raivis. I didn't want a perfect, small china-doll son or daughter. I didn't want a replacement for my Anastastia. I wanted someone who I could hope to understand, a challenge for me._

_You reminded me so much of myself, I didn't want you to feel jaded or unloved for too much longer. It's only a matter of time before a young person realizes they need someone to be proud of them, someone to understand them._

_You were someone I both could and couldn't understand. And that's why I adopted you._

_I am sorry if I haven't given you the chance to understand me better. Because I didn't know if you would end up accepting it._

_Because I still care about you so much, I will allow you to choose what happens next. If you no longer wish to speak to me, I understand. If you wish to disown yourself, I will allow it, with no hostility. And I will try my best to accept if you should decide to return back to the orphanage. I will always allow you back in my home._

_The final thing I have to say is; I am sorry if we still misunderstand each other._

_Love,_

_Ivan_


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter's noticeably shorter, because the scene is pretty straightforward. Also, updates are going to be a bit slower, since I'm going back to school on the 27th. Expect some weekend updates.**

* * *

Raivis snapped back to the conscious day as a tear splashed onto the page, dampening the spot. He hadn't realized he was crying until now. He could feel bile rising in his throat as he choked on a breath. He looked out the window to the setting sky, eyes reflecting self-discovered horror.

_What have I done?_

This whole time, he had suspected something wrong with Ivan. And there wasn't anything wrong _with_ Ivan. Just everything that had happened to him was wrong or unfair. The Russian wasn't dangerous, he was just trying to move on.

Raivis felt disgusting as he remembered how he had shouted at the poor man. This whole time, Ivan was just trying to be a good father, and - Raivis wanted to slap himself - he was such a _jerk_ to him!

He wiped his eyes frantically, trying to calm down. He didn't know exactly when Ivan wrote this; probably after their fight; but he wondered what the man was thinking now. He probably spent the day anxious over him reading the letter, or still shattered over the incident the other day.

Raivis remembered the words he had screamed. Calling Ivan a _freak_, telling him he hated him...

He clenched his fists, asking himself, _am I a bad kid for saying that? I didn't mean them!_

He didn't mean them. Ivan had to know that. Raivis looked at the clock, and felt a jolt in his chest when he saw it was already 7:00. Ivan still wasn't home?

Dread filled the Latvian boy's chest as he went downstairs, and called out, "Ivan?"

No answer. Raivis opened the front door, to look out to the driveway for any sign of Ivan's car. Not there.

He swallowed the lump growing in his throat as he ran back inside. He had to know if Ivan was okay. If he was going to come home. He wouldn't abandon him, would he? Was he that bad of a kid, that the man would abandon him?

He ran for the phone, to call Ivan's cellphone. The dial-tone was interrupted by a message that indicated the phone was turned off. Raivis began to panic, fearing the man wasn't going to come back for him. He bolted out the front door into the winter evening without even putting his coat on. He ran down the drive, trying to look for any cars approaching.

"Ivan!", he called out, just in case anyone heard him.

He ran past Toris' house. The lights weren't on, meaning the man wasn't home. He wouldn't leave too, would he? If he knew his godson was a bad kid, would he leave?

"Ivan?"

No answer. The street was not responding.

"Ivan!"

Raivis reached the end of the street. Blindly, he turned a corner, just to see if there was any sign the man would come back.

"IVAN?", he cried out again, running as fast as his legs could carry him. His feet skidded on the street with a crunch as he halted for a stranger's car. Growing desperate and hysterical, he shouted something he hadn't ever thought of saying since yesterday, his voice ringing through the treetops as dusk settled.

"DAD!"

* * *

After about only a minute of blind running, Raivis tried to cross the road. He screamed as he faced the blinding white light of a car, only to hear a screech as it stopped.

"Ye_ Gods_, Raivis!", cried Toris as he got out of the car, and faced the boy, "What on earth were you doing, running across the road like that?"

"T-Toris! Toris!", wheezed the boy, in near panic. "I can't find him! I can't find him!"

Toris realized how frightened Raivis was, and gently put his hand on his shoulder, "Wait, what's going on?"

"I-Ivan! We...we had a bad fight, and he left me a note explaining everything! Now I can't find him!"

He could feel tears sting at his eyes, and he choked, "Did he abandon me?"

The Lithuanian pulled him into a hug, murmuring, "No, no. He wouldn't do that, Raivis. Ivan wouldn't ever do that."

Raivis felt his hair get rubbed gently, as Toris reassured him that Ivan wasn't going to leave him. Feeling guilty for the other day, he hugged the green eyed man, mumbling into his sweater, "I'm sorry..."

Toris gave a sigh, "It's okay. You're fine."

He looked up at the sky in thought, and he let go of Raivis, thinking deeply, "I think I know where he is. There's nothing to be worried about."

He opened the passenger door on his car, and allowed Raivis to climb in. Getting back in the car, he explained, "We'll check to see if he's where I think he might be, and if not, I'll take you home, and go out looking for him."

The idea of Toris looking for Ivan like a missing pet set Raivis with uneasiness, and he began to ask worriedly, "What if he's not coming back, and he-"

"Don't talk like that, Raivis. Ivan's fine.", scolded Toris firmly. He made a U-turn on the road, and drove down the long strip of houses and trees. He turned at the green sign signaling to a park. Raivis remembered this park. It had a lake and birds swimming in it. Ivan had been watching the swans excitedly.

As Toris parked the car on the side of the road by the park, Raivis finally decided to inform Toris,

"He doesn't blame you."

The Lithuanian gave a confused look, turning to Raivis. The boy sighed, and repeated, "He doesn't blame you. Ivan doesn't blame you for what happened to Anna."

Toris stared at Raivis for a few moments, then gave a shaky smile. He breathed a shuddered sigh, and choked, almost as if he was relieved Raivis had said that,

"I...I just can't help but think of that poor little girl...and that if I had been there sooner...she might still be here..."

As Toris wiped his eyes, Raivis frowned, "Ivan doesn't want you to be sad. It makes him sad too."

The brunette sighed sadly, and nodded, wiping his eyes quickly. Raivis knew it wouldn't truly change how Toris felt, but maybe with the acknowledgement of Toris' innocence, it would make things a little less painful. Toris knew this too. He still wouldn't stop thinking about the little girl. He had been responsible then to keep her safe for Ivan. He felt like a failure, and he had just wanted Ivan to stop feeling like a failed parent. He gave a small, "Thank you...", to Raivis as he blew his nose on a tissue. He then unbuckled his seatbelt, and said, "I'm going to go see if Ivan's here. You stay in the car, alright?"

"Fine.", nodded Raivis, leaning his head against the window. His stomach was in knots, and he was trembling anxiously. He watched as Toris disappeared into the dark, in the direction of the lake.

* * *

As if it could sense the atmosphere, the lone swan in the water sailed slowly, barely moving. The night sky dimmed its white feathers to a dusky blue, and it seemed to gaze stiffly at its reflection in the water. The solemnity is something that was admired by Ivan, who usually enjoyed watching the swans when he was sad. But now, as he sat on the bench, he didn't really feel like it was cheering him up. Just the fact that the swan was swimming alone was making him feel even lonelier. But still, his eyes remained glued to the overall still waters and the bird that presented itself like a living sculpture in it.

He was growing discomforted from the cold, but he didn't want to leave just yet. His mind was equally numb, as he could only imagine what Raivis had recovered from his letter. He almost regretted putting it there. He'd rather the boy hated him and lived under his roof, than be terrified of him and away with some other family. Regardless, he'd have to respect Raivis' decision. Even if it shattered him to pieces, he'd simply prove he wouldn't stay an obstacle in the boy's life.

He had been so spaced out, he didn't know Toris had come up to the bench, and sat down on the edge. He perked up when he heard the other ask, "What are you doing out so late?"

Ivan gave a soft smile, and replied, "I was feeling sad. You know I like to come here when I'm sad."

Toris gave a small bob of the head, as if he were nodding, and he continued, "You should probably head home. Raivis was wondering where you were."

Ivan gave a small hum, smile frozen as he gave a small nod. His eyes were still glued to the lake, not blinking. This told Toris that Ivan was upset. He hugged his surrogate brother, and felt the other tremble as he choked, tears starting to get in his eyes, "H-he hates me, Toris!"

"No, he doesn't..." soothed the other as he rubbed his back.

"Yes, he does!", sniffed Ivan brokenly, "He told me so! He told me he hated me, and won't speak to me!"

"I think he's changed his mind. He was afraid you were going to leave him, because you didn't come home on time."

Ivan gave a surprised look, "Really?"

The other nodded, "Mhm. He was really upset."

Ivan gave a confused look, as he tried to think of something to say. He looked at Toris, "I guess I'd better go home then and-"

"DAD!", shrieked a cracked voice. Footsteps thundered like heartbeats in the grass, and before Ivan even turned his head, Raivis barreled into him, hugging him tightly. Toris recoiled back with a shriek of surprise. Ivan remained frozen, staring in shock at the boy who was nearly squeezing the daylights out of his arm. He stated in a breathless whisper, "You...just called me 'Dad'..."

Raivis looked down, almost embarrassed. He bit his lip hard enough for it to hurt, as his chest ached. Ivan shifted in his seat as he asked with a bit of fear,

"Y-you read my letter, yes?"

Raivis paused a moment, then nodded.

Ivan hesitated a second, then asked, "Did...did you understand any of it?"

Toris watched intently, frozen in his place. Raivis was averting his gaze to the side, and after a pause, he nodded slowly. His eyes were glittering with moisture.

"I understood it..."

Ivan held his breath as he stared at the boy with guilt and fear. He choked out, "C-can you...will you ever forgive me?"

Raivis instantly hugged him tighter, burying his face into his thick winter coat as he sniffled. Ivan, in return wrapped his arms around the other, not letting go. One would have expected the two to be instantly saying 'I'm sorry' to the other, but it didn't need to be said. They were both silently forgiving.

Raivis looked up wiping his eyes with his sleeve, "You're not going to leave me, are you?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no...", whispered Ivan quickly, rubbing Raivis' hair gently, "I wouldn't ever do that."

_I've decided now, I'm not going to give up on one child because I've lost the other._

Raivis buried his face in the other's coat again, his choked words muffled, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too.", smiled Ivan back, patting his head affectionately.

Toris watched the scene, and couldn't help but smile with relief. After three minutes of silence, watching the other two, he chuckled awkwardly,

"I ah...assume I can drive home now?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Terribly sorry for the delay! I've been busy with school, and college apps.**

**This chapter is a little more lighthearted.**

* * *

The next morning, Raivis remembered it was a Saturday. Meaning he had no school, and Ivan had no work. He gazed up at the wall beside his bed. The Sundance poster was stuck in its proper place, but the space next to it was empty. Raivis sighed, turning to look at the torn poster on the floor. Kubrick really was dead, it seemed. He really had messed up, hadn't he?

Ivan knocked on the door, and opened it with a smile, "Good morning."

He looked at the floor, and gave a confused look, "What happened to your poster?"

Raivis gave a sheepish look, and replied, "I kind of tore it off the wall when I was mad."

"Oh...", replied the Russian, looking away awkwardly, "Sorry..."

"Don't be...", started Raivis. The poster could be replaced or taped up. His dad couldn't. When they had gotten home from the park that night, Ivan asked Raivis if he wanted him to take out any pictures of his daughter or anything he could explain. Raivis said it was alright if Ivan didn't want to do that. He knew how difficult it would be to relive certain memories, and he didn't want Ivan to suffer. So they settled with watching the hockey playoffs. The Latvians and Russians had been tied, but both lost. So there was no tension.

Ivan coughed a little, and started, "So it seems one of my co-workers who shares clients with me couldn't make it today. And so I have to take their appointments. Toris is working today, so...it looks like I'll have to take you to the clinic with me."

Raivis nodded, "Oh, alright...cool."

For some reason, the idea of seeing Ivan's work environment was quite interesting. Raivis wondered what a psychiatric clinic for children was like. He had only been in one once when he was eleven, and it was an evaluation since he had been in an orphanage for so long. It had been boring and the room smelled like cold turkey. Hopefully, Ivan's would be different.

He then asked, a little hesitantly, "Are the people there...nice?"

"The people I work with? Oh, they're very nice, Raivis. Both co-workers and patients. For some, it's just knowing how to communicate and understand them."

He looked at the clock on the wall, "My first patient is coming at 11:30. I'll start breakfast while you get dressed, and then we can head out."

"Can I bring my camera?"

Ivan gave a conflicted face, "I'll allow it, but you'll have to refrain from filming during my appointments out of respect for my patients."

"I understand.", nodded Raivis, getting out of bed. He grabbed a set of clothes, and headed off to the bathroom.

Ivan hummed happily as he fixed breakfast downstairs, relieved things were closer to normal again. They wouldn't be the same, but they were getting better.

Raivis peered in the mirror, eyeing his chin curiously. Suddenly, he did a double take. Were his eyes decieving him? Or was that really...a hair? Raivis wanted to praise the gods of puberty for gracing him with something satisfactory. Within days...weeks...months...any time, he could very well be sprouting a face of hot honey fur. Raivis had been contemplating a goatee so deeply, he didn't carefully observe the shower before he hopped in.

As Ivan took the strawberries out of the fridge, he realized he forgot to tell Raivis the pipes froze that morning. But he knew that when the water turned on, he was too late. He anticipated the loud shriek, so he wouldn't drop what he was holding. His son thundered down the stairs, shivering like the bite of December, wrapped in a towel.

Ivan smiled sheepishly, "Forgot..."

Raivis chattered, "D-dad, p-please fix the shower."

* * *

The waiting room of the clinic was very simple. It didn't look fancy, or overly sophisticated. A small bin of children's books lay on the ground, next to some cushy chairs. There were a couple toys and games in a bin resting on the shelf, but the decor was very simplistic, and not overwhelming. Raivis had to admit, it was pretty easy to look at, and it seemed welcoming. Ivan spoke in Russian to the receptionist, who nodded, then smiled and waved to him. She had long brunette hair, with a flower clipped on one side. Her green eyes sparkled with an inherent strength, which seemed so weird since she was sitting at a desk so quietly.

Ivan motioned to Raivis, and led him down a hallway with pleasantly light yellow wallpaper. At least three doors passed, to the left, the man turned and unlocked a door, opening it. With a flick of a light switch, the office was alive.

Some small plastic chairs, colors of red, green, and yellow sat in the corner, next to a shelf of books, and a wooden stool, most likely painted by Ivan. Raivis could tell that the handiwork was his. In another corner sat a large stuffed bear, worn by age and use, but still very comforting. A couch was on the other wall, opposite Ivan's desk. Raivis noticed there wasn't a computer there, but many papers, pencils, files, folders, and typical office trinkets. A little metal clock sat on the edge, along with a phone, and a set of matryoshka dolls. Ivan had a lot of those little dolls at home, sitting on shelves. He had said his sister made them.

Raivis looked around, "You have this whole office to yourself?"

His father nodded as he put his laptop on the desk, "Mhm. It's quite impressive, yes?"

"Yeah- I mean, yes...", corrected Raivis, tending to speak a little more properly nowadays.

As Ivan prepared for the day, a man walked down the hall, and stopped to glance at Raivis. He looked very intimidating, with his tall frame and piercing blue eyes. _Ye gods, he might be as tall as Ivan!_

Ivan looked up, and smiled, "Well good morning, Berwald!"

"Morn'n.", he replied with a low voice. He locked eyes with Raivis, who felt a need to shy away. This guy was creeping him out.

Ivan smiled, "Raivis, this is my colleague, Mr. Oxenstierna. Berwald, this is my son, Raivis. He's spending the day here with me."

"Mm.", nodded Berwald, facial expression not changing, "My boy is here t'day too. He's 'bout y'r age."

Ivan smiled, "Well that's nice! You might have someone to keep you company, Raivis!"

Raivis shrugged, giving a polite smile, "Alright then."

Berwald gave a small bob of the head, and walked off. Raivis kept his gaze on the door, anticipating for those fierce eyes to peer back in. Ivan chuckled behind him, "He's quite nice, I assure you. He's just a little intimidating for those first meeting him."

Raivis nodded shakily. Ivan then smiled with an idea, "There's a break room down the hall. While I'm busy, you can take your camera down there, and film. It's kind of dark in there, so you could think of many possibilities"

The boy smiled, excited to use his camera, "That sounds great!" If the room was dark, he could perhaps think up some buildup for a horror film.

About ten minutes later, a young woman walked in with a boy fidgeting with his hands, looking at the ground. Ivan smiled sweetly, speaking in Russian, _"Well, good morning, Viktor! How are we this morning?"_

The boy uttered something too quickly for Raivis to even catch, and the woman began to speak in Russian, as Ivan listened, nodding affirmatively. He looked to Raivis, and said quietly, "You can go explore now."

Raivis picked up his satchel, and walked down the hall, leaving his father to his clients.

The break room was dark, like Ivan had said. Well, relatively dark. A flourescent light hung overhead, glowing dully. In the middle of the room was a large wooden table with chairs, papers and a coffee cup discarded on it. A an empty sink was installed in a table by the wall, and opposite was a vending machine. The vending machine had a glowing light coming from it. But it was highly blocked by the person in front of it. The boy banged irritably on the glass window, muttering how it ate his quarter. He brushed his spiky hair in exasperation.

Raivis recognized him instantly, and paled. "Matthias?" _Oh shit._

The other turned at his name, and immediately broke into a face of surprise, almost happiness. He grinned, "Hey, it's you! The weird kid Eddy hangs out with! How're things goin' for ya?"

Raivis gave a funny look at Matthias' reaction, and started, "Um...okay, I guess. What are you even doing here?"

Matthias walked over, towering over the Latvian, "Berwald works here, so he's brings me along on weekends."

Raivis shrunk down, "Berwald's your father?"

"Step-father.", corrected Matthias, rolling his eyes, "He married my mom a couple years ago."

Raivis ducked out from under Matthias' gaze, so he wasn't so enclosed, and he backed away. He wanted to leave, so Matthias wouldn't annoy him or do worse. He didn't have glasses like Eduard, but Matthias might find something else to break. Like his camera. He was about to leave the break room, but Matthias chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder, "Where are you going there, kid?"

"Leaving."

Matthias tutted, "But you just got here! Besides, I need some help with homework-"

"No way!", Raivis glared.

The other frowned, "C'mon. The sooner you agree to this, the easier the outcome-"

"Go ahead and try to make me. You know my dad? The tall guy with the scarf? I'll tell him that you're annoying me, and bullying Eduard into doing your homework for you. And he won't like that."

At first Matthias seemed ticked that Raivis was threatening him back, but he gave a bit of a confused look as Raivis continued on, and he muttered, "But I'm not a bully..."

"Yes you are.", countered Raivis with annoyance, "You break Eduard's glasses when you don't get your way, and you don't know when to back off already. Just do the stupid homework yourself, and leave us alone!"

Matthias frowned, biting his lip, and he pouted, "Fine.", letting Raivis go as he slowly walked back into the break room, slumping down in the chair with the papers in front of it.

Raivis felt a little relieved, but something seemed to unnerve him about Matthias' reaction. He seemed a little...well, sad wasn't the right word...hurt? He shrugged it off, and went down the hall to explore. Maybe there was another secret room or something that he could film. Somewhere he could hide until Ivan was done with his meetings.

* * *

As if the fates were laughing at him again, Raivis was met by the locked gaze of Berwald at the end of the hall. "He-hello sir.", he choked out.

Berwald nodded with a grunt. He then said, "I suppose y' met m' boy, M'tthias."

Raivis swallowed, "Um, yes. We go to the same school."

"I see.", nodded Berwald, "He's a good kid. A lit'le shy, but good. Real smart too."

Raivis wanted to openly scoff, but held his tongue. Matthias was anything but shy. He was always lurking around him and Eduard, and he had to be the village idiot if he was constantly mooching off of Eduard's knowledge for the simplest things to know. Instead of telling Berwald this, he nodded, "Mhm."

Berwald handed him a bag, "Nex' time y' see 'm, give 'm his lunch. I made it f'r 'm."

He hesitantly took the small paper bag, allowing his fingers to crinkle the edge firmly, "Alright."

Berwald gave a nod, and walked off. Once he was gone, Raivis looked inside the bag. A small tupperware container of what looked like some cold cabbage rolls lay in it, along with a yellow apple, and a container of macaroons. The violet eyed boy took out a macaroon, and bit into it. Delicious. Raivis ate the rest. Along with the lunch was a note on a tiny piece of notepad paper. It was written in a language Raivis didn't know. He could only guess Berwald had written this to Matthias.

Raivis sighed, realizing he'd have to give this to the kid. He walked back into the break room, planning to unceremoniously dump the sack on the table. Walking in, he saw Matthias sitting at the table, pencil in hand, not looking up. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he tapped his pencil in frustration. Occasionally, he'd lower the pencil to write something, only to erase it in annoyance. He sighed angrily, not understanding the numbers in front of him.

Raivis plopped the sack onto the table, and glanced at Matthias' paper. Nothing had been written on it since he had last been in there. He blinked, and gave a sigh of hopelessness, "You use the PEMDAS method."

"I know.", grumbled Matthias, still concentrating, "I just have a hard time remembering it. All these stupid rules are driving me nuts."

Raivis started, remembering back home, "In America, we'd make up a phrase for it, to remember. We'd say 'Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Susan'. Then we could remember what goes in what order."

"Oh...", started Matthias, scribbling excitedly on his paper. He began to work the problems out a little faster, and about four minutes later, Raivis found himself still standing there, watching the other work away. Matthias was on one of the last questions, stumped, "What's wrong with this one?"

Raivis peered over, and pointed, "You forgot to carry the six."

Matthias noticed his error, and nodded. He shoved the paper aside, and sighed, "I'm good at everything except for math. I just don't get numbers at all."

"Why don't you get an actual tutor?"

"Can't afford one.", sighed the boy, "Eduard's the cheapest one around."

"That doesn't mean you can work him to the bone, and get mad when he says no."

"I know...I just...", he sighed, "I have to do good for Berwald. He's watching me like a hawk."

"Why don't you ask him to help you?"

"Help me? Kid, he freaks the crap out of me. And anyway, he probably wouldn't want to help me."

Raivis tilted his head in thought, "Well, he seems to like you a lot. He made you lunch today. And he thinks you're smart."

Matthias looked up, "Where the heck did you hear that?"

The boy smiled smugly, "He told me. Also, his macaroon cookies are pretty good."

The Danish boy glared, "You ate my cookies?"

Raivis continued to smile, "He must be good at numbers, right? Maybe if you tell him you're having trouble with math. he'll help you. My dad helps me with homework."

Matthias shrugged, still peeved over the cookies, "We'll see." He didn't want to admit just yet that this short, trembly kid was talking logic.

"Well the sooner you do it, the sooner you can quit seeing Eduard."

"Quit seeing Eduard?", he echoed, tilting his head in confusion, "But he's my friend."

Raivis frowned, "You break his glasses all the time. Why would he want to be your friend if you do that?"

Matthias opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as he realized Raivis was right. It was no wonder Eduard was hasty to hang up when he called to invite him over to play computer games, or why Eduard never sat with him at lunch even though neither of them would have anyone to sit with. He only broke his glasses to get his point across...besides, he could always tape them up...No, no. That wasn't right. That wasn't fair. The kid was right, he was being nothing but a bully.

He sighed, "Well, I_ thought_ Eduard was my friend. Guess I've got nobody after all." Despondent, he slumped in the chair, silently hoping he wasn't going to spend the rest of his school days sitting at a table, eating his lunch alone. Everyone at school thought he was brash and annoying, and now he understood that Eduard didn't like him. He really dug himself in a hole, hadn't he?

Raivis couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Matthias. He might have been a bit of a bully, but he probably wasn't a bad kid. Just a little misguided...like him. He sat in the other chair, and asked, "Maybe if you act nicer to us, then maybe we'll let you hang around us more."

Matthias looked up, chewing his lip in thought, "We'll see."

"But as actual friends and classmates. Not homework machines.", Raivis frowned, "If you want help with your homework, ask your dad. He seems like he wants to help you succeed, and he's probably more reliable than a couple of teenagers who can pull a fast one on you."

"Hm."

And then there was silence. Matthias was drumming his fingers on the table as Raivis looked past him towards the vending machine. He silently praised the holy deity of snacks that there was peanut butter M&Ms in it. He couldn't find them anywhere in this godforsaken country.

After a little longer, Matthias grabbed his lunch bag, and dug into it, pulling out the cabbage rolls. He looked up to the other and asked, "Say, what's your name again?"

"Raivis.", he replied quietly, still looking in the machine for his favorite sweets.

"Ray-vis.", he repeated, enunciating the syllables. He chuckled, "Sounds funny." He turned his head to see what Raivis was staring at. He frowned, "That stupid machine ate my money."

The Latvian nodded, and looked around the room, "Is there a coathanger, or some sort of wire I can use?"

Matthias nodded, and ran out of the room to Berwald's office. He had a coatrack with hangers on it. Plucking one off, he ran back. He showed it to Raivis, "Will this do?"

"Excellent.", he grinned cooly, straightening it out, leaving a small hook in it. Carefully, he eased it through the machine's slot, and up into the lines of snacks. With skilled prodding, down came two packets of M&Ms. He smiled with satisfaction, pulling them out, tossing one to Matthias.

"Woah, kid. How'd you learn to do that?"

"Sometimes, the streets of New York are where you learn the most valuable life lessons."

The Dane nodded, impressed. They both snacked on their prize in silence. Raivis decided then and there that Matthias wasn't that bad. He found him annoying still, but not as much as before. But still, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Around 3:00, Ivan's appointments were finished, and it was time for Raivis to go home. Before he did, he wrote a note to the Danish boy.

_Matthias,_

_On Monday, you can sit with me and Eduard at lunch (I'll talk to him, it's cool), but only on these conditions:_

_- You don't ever break Eduard's glasses again._  
_- You talk to Berwald about helping you._  
_- You bring us macaroons._

_Raivis_

_PS If you forget the macaroons, I will send Ivan after you._

* * *

**So this was kind of a lighthearted, funny chapter. I wanted to delve into Matthias' character a little.**

**We'll see plenty of Ivan and Raivis time in the next chapter. Drama a-bound!**


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm sorry for the longer delays! School and portfolio work are taking up a lot of time.** **I had fun writing this chapter though! Mind you, a lot of it it spoken in Russian, but for sake of not botching the language, I used italics to indicate when characters are speaking Russian.**

* * *

The next day, as he was making breakfast, Ivan frowned as he noticed his food supply was very barebones. Listing out what was needed, he finished making the porridge as Raivis trudged groggily down the stairs, running a hand through his wiry blond hair. The boy yawned, "I'm near out of pills."

"I'm near out of food. Small world.", chuckled Ivan, stirring the contents in the pot. Raivis looked in the cupboards, and nodded, noting that all that was in there was a half bag of uncooked egg noodles and an expired jar of some spread food.

Ivan took a spoon, grating out the last few granules of cinnamon from the bottle as he sighed, "Looks like we're taking a market trip today."

Raivis smirked, quite impressed with Ivan's skill. His father was what you might call a frugal gourmet. He loved to cook, but was very cautious about using his ingredients, making sure it was all put to use before he restocked. Which perhaps explained why Raivis had a bread and butter sandwich and oyster crackers for his lunch the other day.

After their breakfast (which tasted a lot thinner than normal), Ivan called the pharmacy to prepare Raivis' prescription, and prepared his grocery list.

Markets on Sunday were generally crowded, especially after Sunday services at the churches and Cathedral. But it was alright. Raivis had discovered during his time here that he really liked the Russian markets. The merchandise sold there was usually very bizarre to him, and strange surprises were around every corner. He also really liked Russian chocolate, which they sold at the front of the stores. It beat Hersheys by a longshot.

After stopping by the pharmacy, Ivan parked in front of one of the bigger grocery stores. They were by the front row of shelves when a man walked in on his own, walking to a front shelf. As Raivis and Ivan headed towards another aisle, a mother and girl; no older than 8, entered, heading directly for the back of the store. The girl looked at Ivan, who gave a friendly smile. The other man watched the girl with unclear motive.

Ivan walked past a cigarette dispenser, and lifted his hand up towards his coat pocket, as if to fish for some change. He then lifted it down, shaking his head, mumbling, "Already a bad habit."

Raivis hid a grin. Ivan smoked too? Maybe if he came clean about it, maybe he could smoke sparingly (not in the house...).

As they were heading for another row of shelves, Ivan spotted the same little girl from earlier, on her own. She was looking around in confusion. She looked nervous or scared. Ivan tapped Raivis' shoulder, murmuring quietly, "I think she's lost."

Ivan went over to the little girl, and asked gently in Russian,_ "Are you lost?"_

Looking ready to cry, the girl nodded. Ivan gave a soft smile,_ "Would you like me to stay here with you, and wait for your mummy to find you?"_

The girl looked like she was about to nod or say yes, but then the man from the front of the store walked by, looking frantic as he took the girl by the arm, _"There you are, young lady! I've been looking everywhere for you, let's go!"_

The girl followed, but...unwillingly, as Ivan observed. Her feet were dragging, pulling back, and the girl looked like she was panicking.

Ivan frowned, not liking the looks of this. He nudged Raivis along, "Stay behind me."

Raivis looked up in confusion, "What's going on?"

Ivan followed behind the man from a distance that was rapidly shrinking, and muttered quickly to Raivis, "That's not his child."

He walked behind the girl, asking quickly, _"Is he your daddy?"_

The girl shook her head. The man continued to tug, growling to Ivan, _"Yes I am, she's being bratty."_

Ivan then asked in a serious tone, face showing worry, _"Do you know him?"_

The girl looked up with terror, and shook her head rapidly. As soon as she answered, the man dragging her whirled around, and with his free arm whacked Ivan in the face, knocking him back.

Raivis shouted, "Dad!" as Ivan stumbled back, but the Russian caught himself with his heel as the kidnapper dragged the girl faster, nearly running. Ivan darted after him, shouting, _"That's not his daughter! Stop him, he's kidnapping her!"_

Raivis ran as fast as he could after his father. He was starting to panick himself. Not just for the little girl, but for Ivan. He had never seen anyone strike him like that. Or Ivan react like this. Ivan shouted behind him as he turned the corner, "Raivis, run to the front of the store, and tell the clerks to not let that man out! Now!"

Raivis turned, and sprinted down the aisle, and towards the front, breathing harder than he ever had. His heart was pounding like a hammer to nails. As he made it to the front of the store, so did the kidnapper and Ivan running behind him.

Before Raivis could shout to the confused clerks, Ivan caught up to the man, and leaped, knocking him over. The man let go of the girl who scrabbled to safety, and the crook was scrambling to get out from under Ivan's weight. The Russian glared murderously, trying to hold the would-be abducter to the ground. Alas, the kidnapper squirmed a hand free and shoved Ivan off of him roughly, springing up, and running out of the store. Ivan got up quickly, roaring, _"You get back here!"_ He pursued the man, only to stare at the license plate of the car he escaped in. Getting back in the store, he wrote it down on a piece of paper, and went back over to the little girl who was shaking, crying silently. He knelt down to her, staring at her in relief and near-hysteria.

He gasped out, catching his breath, _"Are you alright?"_

The girl nodded, and suddenly her mother hurried out of an aisle, shrieking in relief, _"Misha! Oh, Misha! I'm so glad you're safe! I turned my back for a minute, and you were gone!"_

The near sobbing woman began hugging Ivan, who looked increasingly uncomfortable, _"Thank God you were there! You are a hero! Thank you, thank you!"_

Ivan was a pasty color of white, and he murmured in a daze,_ "Please do not thank me, I was only doing what was right."_

Raivis watched silently, heart thumping, as his father was surrounded by bystanders, and answering questions in Russian. He thought Ivan would look more relieved, but he seemed more overwhelmed and upset than anything else. He tracked Ivan's line of sight, towards the little girl who was being smothered by her mother in a crushing hug.

About a half hour later, after the police were given the license number and additional information, things seemed to be a little less stressful...well, for Raivis at least. A newspaper reporter tapped Ivan on the shoulder, _"We are writing an article on this for the paper. Can you tell us your name?"_

Ivan, still not smiling, shook his head, and replied weakly,_ "I do not want to be revered for simply being a good Samaritan. Just call me Vanya."_

The news reporter nodded, and pulled out a camera. One of Ivan's big hands wrapped around it, covering the lens. He frowned, _"No picture either."_

The manager of the store was voicing that he was impressed by Ivan's 'heroic actions', and allowed Ivan and Raivis to have their groceries back free of charge. Ivan didn't seem too empowered by it, but Raivis took this opportunity to stock up some Russian chocolate. Christmas was coming early this year.

Raivis tried to lighten things up on the way home, and as he closed the trunk of the car, he grinned, "Free groceries, Dad! We'll be set for months!"

Ivan didn't respond, just giving a tiny nod. He slumped into the driver's seat, and turned on the car.

The ride home was silent.

Ivan mumbled as they got inside, "You can help yourself to one of the soup cans we bought, and have lunch. I'm going to take a nap."

"Want me to make you some too?"

Ivan shook his head, "Not hungry.", and he slunk upstairs, footsteps silent but weighted.

Raivis heated up some curry, and for a short time, enjoyed the warm and spicy mouthfuls. But after about five swallows of soup, he felt his mood droop, and he sighed.

This wasn't right. Ivan was supposed to be the happy one in this family. The roles weren't supposed to switch. Ivan said so himself. The Russian needed to stop fibbing so much.

Raivis put the rest of the soup in the refrigerator, and went upstairs. He had expected Ivan's bedroom door to be closed, but instead, the lilac door was open.

Ivan was sitting on the white bed, looking wearily at a photograph held in his lap. Without any words, Raivis went in, and sat next to him, looking at the picture. It was of Anna, theoretically. Perhaps only three years old. Sitting in a purple dress, a tiny white bow fixed in a curl of pale gold hair. Raivis had to admit; Ivan wasn't lying when he said she was pretty. For such a young child, her smile and eyes reflected such grace and curiosity in the photograph.

"What happened to her isn't your fault, Dad."

Ivan did not respond, the only thing audible being his breath.

Raivis then gave an awkward smile, nudging his father's shoulder, "H-hey, what you did today was pretty bad-ass...you're a hero, you know that?"

Ivan sighed, and put the photograph on the night-table. He shook his head, replying monotonously,

"I cannot ever accept the title as a hero when I have failed someone I was responsible to keep safe."

Raivis looked down sorely, hoping his father wouldn't be like this forever, "Dad, I-"

"I just can't, Raivis. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his forehead, and after a few silent moments gave a small smile to his son, "But I will make sure never to fail with keeping you safe."

He got up, and keeping the smile, rasped, "I think I'll go heat some of my own soup now."

He left Raivis sitting on the bed, and the boy silently hoped,

_Let nothing ever happen to me. I wouldn't mind if something did, but I don't know how much Ivan can take._

* * *

"I think my dad needs help.", sighed Raivis as he chewed the leftover stroganoff.

Eduard, mouth full of crackers looked up, "Hm?"

"He...he worries too much."

"Wurrieth?", repeated Eduard, trying to swallow down all the food in his mouth.

"Well, mostly about me. I think he's afraid of losing me."

Eduard gasped as he swallowed the rest of his food, "What gives you that idea?"

Raivis scratched the side of his head, and sighed once again, "Did I ever tell you that he had a kid before me? Like, not adopted, but biological."

"Really? What happened?"

"Well, apparently, five years back or something, she disappeared, and it looks like he's blaming himself for it...so he's afraid something might happen to me."

"Did they ever find her body?"

"No. They don't even know if she's dead. She just vanished. But Ivan's nervous about it happening again, I think. He needs help."

"Like, what kind of help? Psychological...?"

"Don't know. It seems as though the only way he'll really get better is to see his daughter again, or at least know what really happened to her."

Eduard smirked, "Pardon me if this seems insensitive, but maybe if you took him to one of those 'converse-with-the-dead' things, he could talk to her. But then again, like you said, she could still be alive."

Raivis gave a small grin, "Those things are illegal, right? Well, in New York, they're probably let fly, but, y'know...I just don't know..."

Eduard shrugged, "Things might get better."

Raivis sighed, "I hope so."

The solemn conversation was interrupted by a cheerful greeting, "No need to panic, the party can start now!"

Matthias plopped between Raivis and Eduard, tray clattering. He grinned, "S'up Ray?"

Eduard turned his head cryptically to face Raivis with a look that asked, "What have you _done_?"

Raivis smiled both apologetically and amusedly. Their table of two was going to be much different from now on.

* * *

Raivis was peeved when he looked in the mirror that morning. Still one chin hair? It wasn't fair. He was fifteen as of 7:56 that morning, and no changes. Unless...

He ripped open his pajama top, button flying. Glory hallelujah. A chest hair. Happy birthday indeed.

He headed downstairs, smiling amusedly. Today was going pretty well. Of course it was. Birthdays always went this well. Except for that ninth birthday when he found that cat squished on the road. But that was six years ago. Old business.

The house smelled of sweet warmth, like cake. And lo behold, there was Ivan in the kitchen, vigorously stirring what looked to be a caramel colored icing. From the oven window, a chocolate cake could be seen rising in the pan.

Ivan smiled, "Well look who is finally up, Mr. Fifteen."

Raivis grinned, and looked in the icing bowl. Daringly, he reached a finger in, only for Ivan to hold the bowl away. He frowned with a good-humored smile, "No, no! No touching anything in here! It's bad luck for the birthday boy to touch his birthday cake in preparation!"

"I've never heard that myth. Where's it from?"

"I made it up.", Ivan replied smugly, "To keep you from cheating."

The Russian checked the oven, and stuck the icing bowl in the fridge to chill, "Toris and the other guests will be arriving in a couple hours. They all agreed on arriving, yes?"

"Mhm, Eduard and Matthias are coming.", nodded Raivis. He was pretty excited. Not counting any little birthday treats from the orphanage, this would be his first legitimate birthday party. Hopefully not his last. Because he was going to kill Matthias if the Dane convinced that girl from Monaco to come. Like, sure, Sophia was cute, and Raivis did kind of like her, but inviting her to his birthday? He was too much of a chicken.

Ivan rubbed one of his sticky hands on a towel, and reached up into the cupboard, pulling out a nicely gift-wrapped envelope.

"I will give you one of your presents before the party. This is a surprise gift."

Raivis took it, and smiled, "Thanks!" He wondered what it could be. It was so thin, it couldn't be anything for his camera.

Slips of paper. The words 'JFK Intl.' Boarding time, '6:45 AM'

Raivis' mouth dropped. He looked up in awe, asking in disbelief, "When are we going?"

"Next Saturday.", smiled Ivan with a giggle, "I'm looking forward to spending two weeks with a true New Yorker."

Raivis hugged Ivan tightly, laughing excitedly, thanking him profusely.

He'd have to call Peter. He was coming home.

* * *

**Okay, so I'd like to tell you that this is partially based on a true story told to me by my friend Adam. His father's friend actually stopped a child from abducted up in Vancouver a few years ago. He apparently tackled the kidnapper, knocking him out. Pretty badass.**

**Oh yeah, to be funny, I wanted to add at the end, 'Meanwhile, Feliks' mouthful tea sprayed everywhere as he read the news article about 'Vanya the hero'.' But I was too chicken.**


	16. Chapter 16

**This is the shortest chapter of the story, by record. It's more of a filler, light and silly, as the next chapter will be getting more dramatic and awesome.**

**Beware a half-drunk 15 year old's unintentional irritating behavior.**

* * *

Raivis was looking out his plane window excitedly. The sky was still dark, and everything below was simply an abyss with few lights. It seemed like it had been forever since they boarded. He turned to his father, who was typing up something on his laptop. "How much longer until we land?"

Ivan rolled his eyes, "Raivis, we haven't even crossed the ocean. Let alone reach it. Be patient."

Raivis gave an exasperated sigh, "I know, but I just want to get there already!"

Ivan cracked a smile, "Excited, yes?"

The boy nodded, planting his feet on the floor. Getting back to New York would be like a dream for him. He missed the cities, the places, and some of the people. He had called Peter the week before, and as soon as the kid got over his howler-monkey cheering fit, he was able to talk to Arthur, and make plans to meet them at the airport. Then they could meet Ivan.

Ivan sighed, reaching for a bottle of some sleep aid for airplanes, and informed, "I forgot my CD player in my stowaway luggage. We should try to sleep now, so we will be well awake when we land. Would you like this to help you doze off?"

Raivis shook his head, assuring, "I'll be asleep in the next hour."

Ivan shrugged, swallowing a pill, "Alright then. I'm going to nap."

* * *

"Hey Dad, you've been asleep for an hour, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Ivan raised an eyebrow, "Um, yes...I am...?"

"Oh, good. One of the leading causes of death is sleep under the influence of medication. I read it in a magazine."

Ivan raised an eyebrow, "Really? What year?"

"1987."

* * *

"Dad, they're serving drinks. What do you want?"

Ivan perked up, "Oh, ah...vodka!"

"Can I have a roast beef sandwich, please? I'll pay for it."

"Fine, fine. Wake me when the drinks come, alright?"

* * *

"Dad, you fell asleep, and you looked peaceful, so I didn't want to wake you up."

"How long was I out?"

"Forty minutes."

"Where's my vodka?"

"Oh, I took a few sips of it. But it was gross, and I threw it out. Why do you like it?"

"You drank my vodka?"

"I finished my sprite, and I was still thirsty."

"Do you feel different?"

"No, but my eyes feel fuzzy."

"...Raivis, stop poking your eye, and try to relax, alright?"

* * *

"Dad, why do we have fingers?"

"...To pick up things?"

"That's what they all say..."

* * *

"Dad, is it illegal in Russia to trip elderly women?"

"On purpose, probably, yes."

"...Do you want to know what's NOT illegal where I'm from?"

"No thank you."

* * *

"Dad, I think the ocean is deserted. I can't see anything in it."

"We're too high up to see anything in it."

"I want to see whales. I'm going to ask the pilot to fly down towards the water."

...

...

"He said no."

* * *

"Dad, I'm going to puke."

"Sickness bag's in the seat pouch."

* * *

"Dad, my head still feels funny."

"That's what vodka does."

"Does your head feel funny when you drink it?"

"Not really."

"Do you go to bars?"

"No."

* * *

"Dad, if Sasquatch was on the plane's wing, would you let me get my camera out of the cargo, and film it? We'd get famous."

"We can't reach the cargo hold, Raivis."

"True. You could maybe pass off as Sasquatch if I filmed you in the woods."

"...That's not nice."

* * *

"Dad, I know you said no more talking, but there's a kid kicking my seat."

"Tell him to stop."

"Can I open the plane window to get him sucked out?"

"No, of course not."

"It'd be a more effective way to stop him..."

"...Are you certain you don't want a sleeping aid?"

* * *

"-and he said to the man runnin' the stand, 'Hey!' BAM BAM BAM, 'Got any-'"

"Raivis, turn off my laptop, and get some sleep!"

* * *

After a good five hours of sleep, Raivis felt a little more alert. He was still dizzy from the vodka (it was strong stuff!), but at least he wasn't talking like an idiot now. He was awoken to the touchdown of the plane onto the runway, and gave a cool grin. At last, he'd made it.

Getting out of the plane, Ivan hummed, "Brr, I'm glad I packed my heavy coat! It's cold here this time of season, yes?"

Raivis nodded, "Mhm. It looks like it's going to snow here soon."

"Home sweet home.", chuckled Ivan, as they entered the airport. Raivis almost expected for his not-too-secret-admirer, Peter, to tackle him from the door. But instead, the airport was pretty bare.

Arriving at the baggage claim, Ivan frowned, "Didn't you say your friends Arthur and Peter would be here?"

Raivis nodded, and looked around curiously. They didn't seem to be in sight.

He turned back to Ivan apologetically, "It's early morning here, so they might just be running a little la-"

He was cut off by an exclamation of joy, and an attack from behind, arms wrapping around his torso. Peter was giggling, "You came back! I knew it! I knew it!"

"Of course.", grinned Raivis, "Wouldn't have missed this trip for anything."

Peter clung on like a cottonball. Raivis noticed that the boy had grown a tiny bit taller, and he had gotten a haircut. Not to mention a healing cut under his chin. Probably from tripping on his feet.

Arthur was close behind, giving Raivis an affectionate clap on the shoulder, "Good to see you again, lad. Peter hasn't shut up about you since you left. He's been showing your film to everybody."

Raivis felt a twinge of anxiousness in his chest. Peter showed people _Space-Boy_? He had almost forgotten about giving him the final copy. But now that he remembered, he could only think about what people thought. Just HOW many people did that kid show it to. Knowing Peter, he made it viral.

"By the way, your film was great. You've definitely got some skill there, boy.", smiled Arthur.

A little proud, but still a little offset, Raivis gave a half smile, and chuckled awkwardly, "Ah, thanks."

Arthur and Ivan talked to each other, introducing themselves with calmness. Funny thing about adults, Raivis thought, was that if there was another adult present, they'd have to politely talk to them like it was an affair of business. He turned to Peter, and asked, "So what's happened while I was gone?"

"Well, when you left, I tried to make my own movie with Arthur's camera, but it didn't work. Then I went through an entire pad of paper, drawing ships and trains. But then I ran out of paper. And then I was bored, so Arthur got me a book called '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea', and it was awesome!"

Raivis nodded, "Indeed that is an awesome book."

"You should make a movie about squids! Giant squids that eat people!"

"James Cameron will probably steal it from me.", joked Raivis, as he scratched the back of his head. "Say, just _how_ many people did you show my film."

Peter began to name people off of his fingers, "Let's see...Mum, Dad, Arthur, Officer Alfred, some Canadian lady who comes here and whose name I can't even remember, her daughter who's really weird and doesn't speak right, that Canadian lady's husband whose got white hair and red eyes, Francis, and Beachball."

"Beachball is a cat."

"A very smart cat!", corrected Peter, "He liked it! They all liked it! They even said so!"

Raivis nodded, feeling a little less anxious. Since living with Ivan, he grew a little more tolerant to how people saw his films. As long as they liked it in some way, he'd be fine.

Ivan went over to Raivis and smiled, "Lucky news, Raivis; our hotel is two blocks north of the Kirkland's cafe. You'll have plenty of time to visit them."

Raivis nodded, and Peter tilted his head back to look at Ivan. He asked curiously, "Are you a giant? Do you eat people?"

"Peter!", scolded Arthur. Ivan simply laughed, and crouched to Peter's height, "You don't need to worry, Peter. I only eat bad children."

Raivis rolled his eyes, cracking a grin to Ivan.

They took the Kirkland's car back to town, and Arthur spoke, "I suppose you would like to be taken to your hotel."

Ivan yawned, "That would be wonderful. I need a nap. Raivis kept waking me up."

"...I did?", Raivis had been mostly out of it the flight over.

"With all due respect, Raivis, you wouldn't shut up."

"Oops. Sorry.", he pardoned, face red. Peter was stifling giggles, and Arthur was about ready to scream at the idiot driver on his left.

In the hotel room, as Ivan dozed, Raivis stayed silent as a pin, swearing off alcohol for good.

Or until he hit thirty.

* * *

**The airplane conversations were based on the many ramblings I had with a friend on a flight home from D.C. Raivis comes off as someone who could be very talkative on flights if there is nothing to occupy him.**


	17. Chapter 17

**P.S. I have never been to NYC, so I do not know where everything might actually be situated, or how big it is.**

* * *

The following day, once they both caught their wind, Ivan and Raivis took a bus across the Brooklyn Bridge towards the city. Getting off the bus, Raivis looked around with a wide smirk, glad to be back with his people, even if only for a while. He walked down with a stride in his step, glancing at all the different sights. There were busy stores with lights on the windows, a sleazy looking pizzeria with the smell of grease wafting from it, and mannequins still and lifeless on the displays of windows, wearing stylish garments.

People rushed by hurriedly, in too much of a rush to get where they wanted to even say 'excuse me'. This was probably considered rude in a place like Russia, but here, it was just everyday life. Raivis knew about it well enough. He wasn't having much trouble adapting back to it, even with so many months away from it. He had lived here so long, it was forever imprinted in his mind.

Ivan was another story however. He was trudging along at a slower, more careful pace, almost a little tensely. He stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this, with his height, clothes, and overall appearance. There was so many noises, and sights he wasn't used to. It just took a little adjustment. Raivis looked back, and felt a little guilty, because his father looked pretty overwhelmed with everything.

"You okay, Dad?"

"J-just fine!", he replied with a smile, his head rising above the crowd of bustling people he was nearly stampeded by. He gave an awkward chuckle, "Just adjusting a little!"

Raivis shrugged, "Well, we're in the part of the city where there's more stores. They've got a lot of merchandise in the windows now..."

"Ah I see.", smiled Ivan, who leaned towards a window to examine the gloves and coats on display. He jumped back, and gave a surprised exclamation in Russian as he caught sight of the price tags, and sheepishly smiled, "And I thought the department store back home was a gamble. Goodness Raivis, are things here this expensive?"

"Plus tax.", he smiled smugly.

"Ye gods, I'm wondering how you kept up so well with everything here."

The boy shrugged, "I've lived here for as long as I could remember...I guess it kind of grows on you."

Ivan craned his head to look at the visible parts of the city, "Well, then you've had quite a lot to grow on."

The boy grinned coolly, feeling hometown pride, "Yes."

He then tugged his father by the arm, "If we take the city bus, we can do some sightseeing."

"Lead the way Mr. Tour-guide.", smiled Ivan teasingly.

The first stop was the Empire State Building. Raivis looked up to his dad, "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

Ivan grinned, "Raivis, I'm 6 feet and five inches tall. If I was afraid of heights, I'd be shrunk to the floor."

The boy laughed, and tugged his father inside. They managed about twenty-seven flights of stairs together before Ivan gasped, "Maybe we should take a break."

"Work those muscles, Dad! Don't wimp out now!", jeered the Latvian excitedly, although he himself was nearly on hands and knees. He wanted to climb up the whole way, and grin down on the city with pride.

About two flights later, he slumped on the elevator floor as the Russian man repeated his words in a mocking, but lighthearted tone, "Work those muscles, don't wimp out now!"

He lightly elbowed his father in the leg, "You gave up first."

On the observation deck, Raivis looked out over the city, and pointed out, "There's the Statue of Liberty. On that island over there."

The Russian man squinted, then smiled, "Ah, there it is!"

He then asked, "Where's Times Square? I heard they have an ice skating rink."

Raivis gestured his thumb to behind him, "It's a ways back there. Maybe tomorrow we can go there?"

Ivan nodded eagerly. He loved to ice skate, even if he couldn't do it professionally. He had wanted to teach Anna how to ice skate when she was older, but some things just weren't going to happen.

Raivis then silently pointed to a monument in the distance, "That's Ground Zero."

Ivan nodded solemnly, "Ah, from the World Trade Center, yes."

Raivis then sighed, "I don't even remember what happened that day. I was only about four, and the orphanage was across the river and some miles back, so we didn't even see anything."

Ivan furrowed his brow in thought "I was at home giving Anna a bath, and Toris called me and told me to turn on the television. Even if I was all the way in Russia, it still made me a little fearful. It made a lot of people so."

Raivis smirked a bit, "It's funny how everyone can recall what they were doing that day, but I can't. I didn't know anybody who was killed that day. Arthur did; a friend of his from college. That's all I can review from that day."

Ivan patted his head, "Sometimes for things like that, it's a bit of a good thing you don't remember it."

Raivis then sighed with a smirk, "Let's stop talking about depressing things, they give me vertigo up here."

His father laughed, "Fair enough."

Raivis reached his arm up to point over the bridge, "Where I lived; the orphanage, it's waaaaay across the river. We can't see anything specific, but it's one of those little dots."

"People are even smaller down there. For all we know, your little friend Peter could be right below us, on the street down there. Or somebody else might be near."

"You think anybody you once knew could be down there?"

"Not sure."

* * *

The next day proved to be just as satisfactory as the day before. After visiting the Empire State Building, the two walked by the riverfront, and looked across the way to the Statue of Liberty. Raivis was glad he had his camera on hand to take pictures and film snippets of what they saw. They walked along the riverfront, talking about simple, non-important things. Afterwards, Raivis had his father try an authentic American hot dog for the first time. Ivan was pretty relieved that it wasn't an ACTUAL dog. He didn't really like it though. He ate three bites, then gave the rest to Raivis, who enjoyed it greatly.

Today, they visited Times Square, and the ice rink. Raivis was pretty shocked at the fact that his father could skate well. Not just well, but _very_ well. He had thought that because the man had abnormal legs from his childhood accident, he'd be a little awkward. But the Russian was gliding along the ice swifter and lighter than the other skaters on the ice. He could have been mistaken for a professional. It honestly was rather intimidating. Which was why Raivis stayed behind the fence for most of the time.

Ivan gave a confused look, spinning around on his skates to face his boy, "Aren't you coming out on the ice?"

The boy trembled, shaking his head with an awkward smile, "Maybe later."

About two hours later, they were back across the bridge. Raivis was sitting in the Kirkland family's cafe with the to-die-for hot chocolate he had missed in Russia, whilst Ivan was back in the hotel room, happily telling Toris of his day, or napping. Ice skating sapped his energy, it seemed.

Peter plopped onto the chair next to Raivis, and asked, "Did you make any more films while you were gone?"

Raivis sipped his drink, shaking his head, "Nothing has been completed yet, but I've been taking in subject matter, and capturing some everyday scenes."

"Do you have any ideas in mind as to what you wanna do?"

"A few, but none are really calling out to me yet."

The chiming bell signaled to Arthur that another customer entered. The British man looked up from the register to smile, "Well, hello again, Meg."

Meg. That name tweaked at Raivis' ears for some reason. He looked behind his shoulder to see a average height woman walking in with a warm expression. Her hair was long and wavy blonde, separated into two loose pigtails, but a single hair was curlicued above her cowlick. Her eyes were the darkest of indigo, near violet. A satchel with a Canadian flag patch sewn on was resting on her shoulder.

But what caught Raivis' attention the most was the child. This lady, Meg, she had a child with her. On a leash. Like some dog. Just the fact that she was on a leash was enough to anger Raivis a little. To put your child on a leash, and parade them around in public like that...it was detrimental to the child's dignity.

Except, this little girl didn't seem to care. She was staring at the ground blankly, swinging her free arm, and making popping noises with her lips. She was uttering something that was unheard. It looked like something Ivan might know about.

So maybe she had reason to be on a leash...that still didn't mean it wouldn't embarrass her inside...maybe.

The woman went up to the register, and greeted back conservatively, "Good afternoon Arthur. Could I have the usual please?"

"Soy latte with caramel? That will be $3.89."

She fished into her pocket, and sighed, "Oh maple, I'm 25 cents short..."

Arthur smiled, "Don't worry about it, you come here often so I'll give you a regular's discount."

She grinned, pushing her glasses back up on her nose, "Thanks!"

Raivis of course wasn't even listening to the actual conversation, as his eyes were glued to the woman, and the child that she was accompanied by. The strange child.

Something wasn't right here.

The woman; her name was Meg. Like Ivan's former girlfriend. She was like he had described her in the letter. He still remembered that letter. He'd never forget it. She had a Canadian flag on her bag. That was a good reason to assume she was Canadian.

And the girl...Raivis hadn't realized it until now, but she bore a strange resemblance to the woman...and to Ivan. She had long wavy snow-blonde hair that was put in a loose braid, and blank violet eyes.

Raivis tried to get a better look at her whole face to see if it was like any of Ivan's photos, but suddenly, it seemed as though something in the child had been set off. She fussed in place, mumbling something incoherent.

Meg caught attention of this, and gently told the girl, "Not now, Molly."

Molly. That was the girl's name. _Ok_, thought Raivis, _So I was probably wrong, and it's just coincidence._

But as soon as Meg reprimanded her child, the girl exclaimed something in a language that was beginning to grow familiar to Raivis' ears.

Russian.

The Latvian got up from his seat, and told the ever chatty Peter, "Stay here, I have to go figure something out!"

* * *

In about five minutes, there was the calming end of a storm. Meg apologized once again to Arthur, "I'm really sorry, I don't know what got into Molly this time..."

Arthur waved it off calmly, despite the fact he had three ruined items of merchandise that the Canadian couldn't pay for. With all this repressed stress, he'd have an aneurysm by fifty.

Raivis was back at his seat, in shock. Peter gave a confused look, "Hey, what's eatin' you?"

He turned ominously towards the bushy browed boy, and murmured, "I know who they are. Meg and Molly."

"So do I, they come here every week! Molly's weird in the head, I think."

"Her name's not Molly."

In the chaos, 'Molly' had knocked over a three glass drink bottles on the cooler rack. She began to scream and cry in Russian, as Raivis could tell, and was flailing her hands wildly. As Meg and Arthur hurriedly tried to clean up the mess, Raivis ran over to the girl to get a better look at her.

She had a very round face, baby fat still clinging to her. Despite the fact her face was contorted in tantrum, she was still very pretty for a little girl. Her words were incomprehensible by everyone, but Raivis could tell by the lilt and emphasis on certain phrases that it was some broken form of Russian.

He knew who she was. He just had to make sure.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke clearly, but quiet enough so that it was a connection between themselves.

"Ring ring.", he calmly stated, voice light.

And there was something unlocked in the child. She stared at Raivis with an unusual stillness in her eyes. Almost as if she had been locked away, and somebody opened the door to talk to her. She stopped her yelling, and said something that confirmed Raivis' suspicions were true.

_"Papa."_


	18. Chapter 18

The first time Raivis decided to rest his eyes, the digital clock on the hotel nightstand read 3:24 AM. When he opened his eyes again, it was 9:14 AM. And his notes were still under the bed sheets with him. Since he got back into bed at the hotel after the cafe incident, he had spent his time writing down anything and everything that could prove his near-certain theory.

The only thing that would make it 100% sure was Ivan.

The boy had not talked about the girl, 'Molly' from the Kirkland's cafe with his father. He knew it wouldn't be appropriate. Because he knew that however he phrased his findings; Ivan would deny them, and/or become depressed again. So once he returned back to the hotel, he and Ivan went out to dinner, and he smiled as if nothing had happened. Hopefully the Russian didn't notice.

Raivis looked over to the other hotel bed, and saw his father sound asleep. It almost pained Raivis to know that Ivan had suffered and grieved over his daughter, and she had been alive this whole time; maybe in this city the whole time too. It seemed incredibly unfair. Silently, so as not to wake him, Raivis put the notes into his satchel.

He had to make sure this was successful in one shot, or Ivan was probably never going to see his daughter again, and Raivis was probably going to end up making sure his father wasn't going to go insane. He couldn't have Ivan in on the plan, it would only make things very complicated. This would have to be a secret mission. He couldn't have a plan B, this was a one-shot chance. So no getting caught. Get this girl back to Ivan, and it was a victory.

Ivan stirred at the sound of rustling papers, and hummed, "What's that? Film notes?"

"Yeah.", smirked Raivis, trying not to let him know about it.

"Do you have any ideas now?"

Raivis pulled out his camera, "Yep."

His next film would be _The Rescue_.

* * *

That day, he didn't take action on his plan; because he knew his father would be suspicious. So he pretended that everything was normal, and spent the day with Ivan. If he left Ivan alone for too long, the Russian would probably end up wandering lost and alone around New York, and Raivis would have to find him.

When the bus passed by the Kirkland's cafe, Raivis tried to scan and see if Meg and her daughter were there. Nope. Arthur was shoveling the dusty snow out front. It fell last night, leaving the streets in fine white veils of powder.

Central Park was beautiful. That's what Ivan's face said as they were walking through it. The snow had clustered in uninterrupted white sheets on the grass, and the pathways were cleared so visitors could still stroll. The carousel's roof was capped in white, but it was still operating. And the Strawberry Field's mosaic was cleared so it was still viewable.

Ivan took out a camera, and quickly snapped a picture of Raivis standing next to the mosaic, which read "Imagine". Raivis wouldn't see this picture for some time, but when he did, he would agree it was nice.

The pond was not frozen, but sheets of thin ice were layering loosely on top of it. Canada geese were waddling about the water edge, and some dipped into the freezing lagoon, ruffling their feathers. Raivis and Ivan were observing this from the park bench. It was so quiet, and the air was cold.

Ivan simply murmured after a long silence, "Reminds me of home."

And Raivis had to wonder; what part of home did it make him think of? The actual place, or the memories? Or both?

Suddenly, Raivis pictured it. The geese were now their elegant cousins, the swans. This was not Central Park, but the park in Moscow. And Ivan was not sitting alone, but with a child in his arms, snuggled nice and safe. A tiny girl, mere months old; with wispy white-blonde curls. A protective arm keeping in warmth for her tiny body, as another hand stroked her head, which was getting kissed lovingly. A father's vow to protect. In cold winter air by the frozen pond. Distant, far-off memories.

Raivis looked up to his father, "Want to go back to Rockefeller Center today?"

Ivan gave a small hum, "I'm still sore from yesterday...maybe tomorrow."

The boy grinned, "Alright."

Raivis wasn't a girl. He wasn't Russian. And he wasn't biologically related to Ivan. But he was still Ivan's boy. He'd be there for his father. He'd let the Russian man know that they were going to be keeping each other safe. Ivan was doing his job fine. Raivis was going to try and do his job better.

* * *

The next morning, when he woke up, Raivis knew it was time to take action. He didn't know why, but he just felt that today was the day he was going to remember the most. Where he would make Ivan feel good about himself again.

He showered and dressed, putting on a gray pullover and jeans. Ivan was huddled under the blankets, nice and warm. They got back to the hotel late last night, when it was incredibly frigid, and for once, the Russian man was _complaining_ about the cold. He had been incredibly relieved when he turned on a hot bath, and slunk into bed. Poor man still wasn't used to time zone changes.

Raivis gently nudged him, "Dad?"

Ivan mumbled something, and opened his eyes, "Hm?"

"I uh...", he started, trying to think of a good fib, "I just remembered I promised Peter we would try some film ideas today and...uh..."

"It's fine, just check in with me at some point today, alright?", the man smiled sleepily, and yawned, "I think I'm sleeping until noon today, these blankets are so warm."

The Latvian gently pet his father's head, "Ok, sorry to wake you. I'm heading out now."

"Have fun.", mumbled Ivan, who proceeded to bury himself back under his pillow cave. Raivis cracked a grin, and exited the hotel room.

Arthur was a little surprised to see Raivis by the cafe so early that morning. They had just opened, and it was a Sunday, meaning business was going to be relatively slower. The honey-haired boy smirked and said tiredly, "I'm writing film notes here today. Ivan's exhausted."

Arthur nodded with a knowing smile, and asked, "Is there anything you'd like while you're here?"

"Coffee.", Raivis stated blankly. "Make it strong."

The Britishman chuckled, "Of course."

For three entire hours, absolutely nothing happened. Raivis was stuck leafing through his fake film notes as he waited for his target to appear. Peter popped up behind him excitedly, "What are you doing?"

Raivis sighed, "Nothing."

"Aw, c'mon, you've been sitting there for three hours, you've gotta be doing something!"

Raivis gave a defeated look, and whispered to Peter, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course I can keep secrets!", the boy nearly shouted. Raivis shushed him quiet and mumbled, "Okay, so you know that Canadian lady who comes in here?"

"Meg? Yeah..."

"You know her daughter?"

"Molly...?"

"Yeah. Well...her name's not Molly, it's Anna. And she used to live with Ivan. But I think Megtook Anna, and called her Molly...without Ivan knowing. Now Ivan can't find Anna, and it's been making him really sad, so I'm trying to get Anna back."

"...so...Meg kidnapped her?"

"That's what I'm guessing."

"So you're...re-kidnapping her?"

"...I guess we could call it that...hey...you want to help me? When and if they come in, make sure Meg doesn't see me take Anna, okay?"

Peter was going to be part of a rescue mission? He grinned, and saluted, "Yessir!"

About an hour later, the bispectacled Canadian walked in timidly, smiling kindly to Arthur. But no 'Molly'. Raivis frowned, and stood up, with the fake intention of getting a napkin. He saw outside the window that the girl was sitting quietly on the bench right by it, jiggling her feet and arms every so often.

Meg shyly said to Arthur, "Molly's sitting on the bench today, just so she doesn't get too worked up in here."

Arthur gave an understanding nod, and fixed her drink. Peter went up to Meg, and began discussing the latest Transformers movie, and she listened politely, finding Peter was absolutely sweet. Behind her, Raivis went outside to the girl on the bench.

He knelt down, and gave a soft, "Ring ring."

She murmured "Papa" once again, and continued in Russian, "_Papa gone, not here._"

Raivis had no clue as to what she was really saying, but he spoke in a soothing tone, "Hey, I'm going to take you back to your daddy, okay? He's missed you."

Making sure Meg wasn't looking, or anyone else, he gently took her by the hand and began to walk, "He's my daddy too now, so he's going to be really happy to see us both."

The girl tugged a little, but the soothing tone, and the 'ring ring' made her move a little more willingly. By the time Raivis was a block from the hotel, she was right by his leg, murmuring, '_Ring ring_'.

He pet her hair carefully, "It's gonna be okay. We're almost there, so we'll get you back home safe and-"

"Hey you! Stop!"

Raivis turned, and saw the police car rolling up, the officer glaring. Oh that's right, the police station was only a block from here too. And Meg must have noticed that Anna had been missing after a minute or two. And like any worried parent or kidnapper in hiding, she must have called authorities in search of her child.

Who was in Raivis' grip.

"Kid, I'm gonna have to ask you to let go of the girl right now, and get in the car."

Crap.


	19. Chapter 19

**Quick updates, hooray! But there's um...bad news. My PC crashed this morning, and it won't be fixed for about three weeks. I'm using my email to type up chapters now, but updates are going to be considerably slower. I'm really sorry my graphics card...the ONLY card, was a piece of crap.**

* * *

Raivis was getting placed in the incredibly uncomfortable backseat of the car (a PLASTIC seat?), whilst the cop; a young Officer Alfred Jones; gently placed Anna in the front passenger seat. As he put Raivis in the back, he muttered, "They're getting younger by the minute, these kidnappers."

The boy insisted once again, "I'm not a kidnapper!"

"Sure, sure. We'll just get this all sorted out at the station, and we'll get your file out.", Jones replied, rolling his eyes. He then turned to Anna, and smiled sweetly, "And as for you, princess, your parents are probably at the station worried sick about you. We'll get you back to them nice and safe, 'kay?"

Anna didn't respond to him, writhing her arms and swinging her leg as she mumbled gibberish again. The American raised an eyebrow, "Hey sweetheart, you wanna look at me?"

He snapped his fingers, but she didn't turn her head to face him. Jones asked himself out loud with a dumbfounded expression, "What's up with her...?"

Raivis finally spat out, "She's autistic, she won't respond to you."

The officer glared at the boy sitting in back, "Hey, I didn't ask you. You've got the right to remain silent; not to keep jabbering."

Raivis didn't obey, and spoke kindly to Anna, "Anna, ring ring!"

The girl's head slightly turned towards him, but her eyes were not on him. She began to speak in Russian, not just gibberish or nonsense. Jones raised an eyebrow, then spoke suspiciously, "I thought your name was Molly from what your mom said, kiddo."

Raivis shook his head frantically, "Her name's not Molly! Her name's Anastasia Braginskaya, and she disappeared from Russia five years ago!"

The Officer turned off the ignition (didn't even start driving anyway), and frowned. He couldn't dismiss this kid's claims too easily, especially when he already knew information about the girl.

"...How do you know this girl anyway?"

Raivis sighed, and shuffled his feet, "She's my adoptive father's biological daughter. She was abducted from Russia five years ago, before I knew my father. Her biological mom kidnapped her without my dad knowing, and; pardon my French; it's really fucked him up. This girl, she's just like how my dad described, and she looks just like the girl in the picture."

When the officer seemed to be listening more intently, Raivis then added, "Plus, she just responded to the same quirks she had five years ago. So it's a certainty who she is."

The officer frowned in thought, "So how'd this slip under the radar so easily?"

"I don't know. That's your peoples' job, right?"

"Hey, don't get too mouthy. Be glad I'm listening to you, kid.", he warned, picking up his walkie talkie, "Hey Honda; yeah it's me, Jones. Run to the Missing Persons Department, and pull up an Anastasia Braginskaya...Because I said so, that's why!"

He told Raivis, "You just be glad I let you talk. You'd be behind bars right now. I hope you're right about this, because it's your head if my ass gets fired."

Jones drove towards the station, only a couple blocks from where they were, and informed, "I'm takin' ya both to the station, so I can hear your story, kid. If everything you've said is for certain, and true as my existance, then we'll drop your kidnapping charges. And for now, until everything is cleared up, we'll keep the girl in government care. Capeesh?"

Raivis gave a nod, then winced, "Can I get these handcuffs off at the station? They hurt."

"They're supposed to hurt. They're not laced with fluffy fabric, now are they?"

"Can I get them off?"

"When charges are cleared, then yes."

"I'm never getting in one of these stupid cars again."

"I love hearing people say that.", grinned the officer.

* * *

"What do you mean I can't see my girl?", snapped an irritated voice.

"She's not hurt is she?", asked another worriedly.

Officer Wang sighed, "Mr. and Mrs. Weilschmidt, we have your daughter in our care for a short while until we can get some questions answered, aru. We're interrogating the suspect."

"Can't you just throw him in the slammer, and give us our kid?"

"We have some unanswered questions regarding your daughter, and the suspect's motive. Just wait patiently, aru."

As they went to go sit in the waiting area, Meg's eyes reflected worry, and she turned to face her husband, with a whisper, "Gil...What if it was Ivan who-"

"Don't worry, Birdie. It's not him. That introvert probably hasn't left his house all this time."

Meanwhile, the Missing Persons case was brought up, and Jones gave a look of wonder as he looked at the file on Anastasia Braginskaya. This had been a big case in Russia it seemed, the media over there deeming it the 'Lost Princess' case. This case was never covered in America, so no wonder he hadn't known about it. Searches stopped after a year by request of the father, Ivan Braginski. According to small translated news articles attached, the man went through a year of therapy to test his emotional health. Poor guy. Getting information off the case, Jones went back to the kid he'd arrested. He tapped the table, and sighed,

"Well, it doesn't look like you were lying, kid. It looks like it really is her. But we can't determine that for certain until we see your dad, and hear what he has to say."

"...Actually, I have an idea for that."

* * *

Like any parent of a teen, Ivan nearly blew a gasket hearing that Raivis got arrested. Kidnapping is what took the cake. The Russian was really hoping that this was all a big misunderstanding, and that Raivis simply was a bystander. But all the same, his kid was arrested, so he was kind of pissed.

He walked into the station, past the waiting room to go through security. Neither Gilbert or Meg saw him go through, or recognized him from the back.

"Raivis!", he cried in disbelief, "What...just...What happened?!"

Despite his father's visible anger, he grinned from ear to ear as he sat in the interrogation room, "Dad, I'm actually really glad you're here! We actually need you for something right now!"

Ivan turned to Jones, "Officer, how much is bail?"

"No bail, sir. He's not charged with anything yet, we just need you to verify something."

Ivan raised an eyebrow, and gave a confused look, "If it has to do with any suspected past crimes, Raivis hasn't done anything that-"

"Sir, we just need you to identify someone for us.", explained Jones bluntly. He went to the second door, and opening it, gently guided in the girl. Upon seeing her, Ivan's face dropped, becoming blank and frozen.

One might expect him to run after the girl, screaming in joy. But he simply stood there, eyes wide as saucers as he gazed over her. With the hair and eyes she had, and that face; a little more grown, but same; he knew who she was, it just didn't click yet. For almost thirty seconds, it was absolute silence, as Ivan held his breath, taking in very few breaths; silently. Raivis watched his father's expression, noting how mystified he looked, his eyes as wide and dark as space.

With a graceful, almost haunting step, he moved forward towards the girl, so that they were close. Breath hitched, Ivan slowly crouched down, moving until he sat on his knees. Their eyes didn't connect, as she was staring at her hand with a blank expression. That's what she'd normally do, he thought.

Another minute of silence as he stared at her, wondering how much she had grown, but how much she had stayed the same since he last saw her.

"Dad...Are you gonna say something?"

Ivan barely nodded. He licked his lips nervously, almost afraid to say it, and be proven wrong. Softly, almost like a child, he murmured the long silenced phrase, _"Ring ring."_

She immediately began to babble in his language. Hearing that voice again, his emotions were unrestrained now, pulling her close in his arms as he choked in shock, "Oh, God."

The girl was murmuring in a solemn tone as he held her tightly, swaying her gently from side to side, and stroking her long hair. She was fairly unresponsive in his hold, not hugging him back or showing surprise. She just went on rambling in words only she might understand. Tears were already running down his face as he cried silently, only a few sobs audible. He kissed the side of her head, and murmured in Russian, _"Anna, my Anastasia...you are here...you are here..."_

She whined, _"Papa gone_."

"No, no.", he whispered, near hysterical, _"Papa is here too. He has missed you so."_

He brought his eyes to gaze on her face again, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. No, he wasn't dreaming, this was real. She was alive. He blinked away some fresh tears, and gave a small laugh, "My how you've grown."

The girl responded with a flap of her hands. Ivan gave another small laugh, and cradled her tightly, silently weeping. Not just out of relief, but out of lament that he hadn't ever thought of her being here. He would wonder where she was, and why, but for now, he was simply embracing that she was with him again. He kissed her forehead, mumbling phrases of gratefulness to whatever deity there might be.

Raivis couldn't help but crack a smile, and he gave a small giggle. Ivan heard him, and looked up with a tearstained smile, "R-Raivis...Raivis come here please..."

The boy came over, only to find himself get pulled down, and smushed next to the girl in a tight hug. Ivan choked, "T-thank you. Thank you...Ye gods, thank you..."

Raivis felt tears prick at his eyes, and he gave a small smile, "...yeah...you're welcome, Dad."

Seeing the tearful man hugging his kids, Jones cursed with a sniffle, "Aw..sniff... now I'm gettin' all teary-eyed too! Too fuckin' precious!"

Ivan got up, and held Anna in one arm (she was still so small!) and held Raivis on the shoulder with his other arm, and he smiled to the officer, "Thank you, Officer. You don't know how happy I truly am."

The American gave an awkward chuckle, and started, "Well I've never had kids, so I guess I don't know..."

The Russian gave a small laugh, and then his face went blank as he curiously asked, "Where was she...?"

Jones gave a smirk, and pointed to Raivis, "He can tell you better than I can. He's the hero here, not me"

Ivan looked expectantly at his boy, who sighed, "She was here in New York. My guess is for the whole time."

Violet eyes went wide again, "...How did it even happen?"

Raivis opened his mouth to speak, but a woman's voice wailed, "Molly!", and footsteps thundered down the hall. "Where is my Molly?"

Officer Wang sighed, knowing he'd be at the bar chugging shots on a regular basis this week if people kept going past the waiting room without his say-so.

* * *

The door swung open, as Anna's 'parents' thundered in to see their 'daughter'. "Molly! Molly, I-"

They both stopped dead in their tracks, as the Canadian woman caught sight of her child, in the arms of the man she least wanted to see right now. Ivan stared in surprise at the couple that rushed in, assuming it was a couple of strangers. But as his eyes met hers, he immediately recognized her. She hadn't changed a bit.

"...Meg?"

The woman let out a small whimper, face turning pale. Her scarlet-eyed husband glared frozen daggers at Ivan, who was holding their 'child' protectively. He knew who he was, and he wasn't going to admit quite yet that they had been Russian was left staring in shock, with so many questions running through his head. The biggest problem was trying to connect her presence to Anna's. Raivis gently took his father by the arm, and pointed, speaking clearly for both Ivan and Officer Jones to hear, "They took Anna."

Ivan's face drained of bright color, and Meg's was sheet white. Gilbert was as stiff as a board. The Russian was staring into his past lover's eyes, and as a psychologist could read her emotions. Fear. Fatalism. Panic.

_Guilt._

Ivan put Anna down, and gave a small smile. It was a smile of calm nature, but it was frozen in such a way on his face, it looked flimsy. His eyes projected a stew of fury, and he spoke his native language with a whispered breath as he took a step forward.

_"You __bitch__. You took my baby from me. Mine."_

"Ivan...", she squeaked fearfully, "I-"

_"You did not deserve to keep her. You gave her away. She's not yours anymore. She never was after you left her. You are a thief. A cheating, lying thief."_

He took a step closer, almost in her face as he shouted angrily enough to make her cower next to her husband, "YOU TOOK MY BABY FROM ME!"

Gilbert charged up, getting close to Ivan's face, "Don't you touch my wife, bastard!"

Ivan snarled at the other, "You shut up, you're worse than her. Taking my child from me-"

"You messed her up, we don't even know what's wrong with her, freak-"

"You never took her to a doctor, or anything?", Ivan shouted in disbelief, "She was born that way! I took care of her in light of her special needs!"

"-treat her like a normal kid-"

"-like she's some plush doll you can play house with-"

Gilbert snarled something too quiet for Raivis to hear, but Ivan's response was pretty shocking. One second, the albino was sneering, the next, he was on the floor, holding his nose as he cried in pain. Meg cried, "Gil!"

"'m fine, Birdie!", he grunted, clutching his broken nose. Ivan examined his fist with silent anger. It was bleeding; he broke open his knuckle. Raivis stood next to Anna, trembling. That was probably the most vicious thing he had ever witnessed his father do. And it was motivated by the devotion he had to his child. And finally, Raivis fully understood. Ivan was not a violent man. He was not dangerous. He was just very defensive of his family. He would _die_ for them if he had to. Raivis realized why his father had been so angry at Feliks that day, and why he had been furious with Raivis about going into the secret room. Ivan's rage was not powered by cruelty, it was powered by love.

Ivan stumbled back a little, breathing deeply, to recompose himself. He walked over to his children, and gave a soft smile, almost apologetically. He didn't want them to see his outburst, but he knew it was too late. Anna didn't seem too phased, finding interest in swinging her right foot, but Raivis was clearly shocked by it. The Russian gently ruffled his son's hair as he went over to Officer Jones, and spoke sternly, "Officer, judging by what you've seen and heard, I suppose it wouldn't be too strange of me to request that these two be put under arrest."

Jones nodded, and started by putting Meg in handcuffs. She simply submitted to it, shamefully putting out her hands, tears running down her face. Gilbert waved his hands excitedly and cried, "W-wait! Meg had nothing to do with this, I took the kid! She just covered for what I did!"

The Officer raised an eyebrow with a nonchalant look, and simply carried on with his work, "Well bring it up with your lawyer. She can still be charged as an accessory to a crime."

Gilbert was about to protest, but Meg shook her head, and choked shamefully, "Gil, just let them do their job...I'm just as guilty as you..."

Officer Honda came by to take them to a holding cell, and as they were getting led out of the room, Meg stared up at Ivan with apologetic eyes. Ivan returned the gaze back with an unforgiving stare until she was out of sight.

Ivan sank back down to the floor to hug his children once again, as Officer Jones coughed awkwardly and said, "Um, I'd hate to break up the family reunion, but right now, your daughter is under the guardianship of the state."

The Russian gave a confused look, and the Officer explained, "Until we have a court hearing, you can't take your daughter home."

Raivis was going to protest at how that was unfair, but Ivan sighed sadly, and nodded. He gave his daughter a kiss on the forehead, and murmured, _"Papa loves you."_

Jones took the girl by the hand to take her to the social worker's office, and he gave a genuine smile, "She'll be ok, sir. We've got her file and everything, they'll know what to do."

Ivan gave a helpless stare as the officer disappeared down the hall with his child, and Raivis patted his shoulder, "You'll be ok?"

The man nodded, giving a small smile, "Yes, yes. I know she'll be fine. I am simply joyous to know she is alive, and well."

Without any more words, he hugged Raivis tightly, knowing that he had to credit his happiness to him. He had two children that he could be proud of, and forever devoted to.

Jones came back a couple minutes later, watched the hug-fest for about three minutes, then informed, "Oh yeah, almost forgot, kid. You're not under arrest. So you can...y'know...go home...?"


	20. Chapter 20

It was amazing how much could happen in three weeks. Within this time, Raivis found himself hopping from plane to plane, back and forth from New York to Russia. Two sets of round trips proved to be rather stressful. His trembling had gotten worse over the last few days; as he could barely hold anything up without letting it wobble. And he proved to be rather shaky when standing.

Ivan had noticed this, and frowned, "Are you alright? Your shaking is getting worse."

The Latvian barely needed to shake his head to answer, it was doing it well enough on its own, "I-I'm fine."

"Have you been taking your pills every day?"

Raivis didn't answer, looking down at the ground.

Ivan gave a stern, but concerned look, and calmly chided, "Raivis, you're supposed to take your medication every day, like your doctor prescribed, yes? Why are you not doing so?"

"I-I guess I've been forgetting."

Ivan gave an understanding nod, "I suppose it's from all the traveling and such, it's quite stressful. Why don't you take it now, before we're called in? The court doesn't start for ten minutes."

"I still might be shaking a little when it starts."

"That's okay.", he smiled, "With all this entails, I'll be shaking too."

This was the third visit to court in the time they were here. Each time, a new charge was filed, but for every time they went into the courtroom, Anna was not there. This clearly upset Ivan, who just wanted to see his daughter. He just reassured himself every time, "Soon."

But everytime Raivis sat in the room, on the defense's side would sit Meg, and her husband, Gilbert, and their lawyer; a dark-haired man with a mole on his chin and glasses. He had a similar accent to Gil's, maybe a little different. But Raivis instantly knew he didn't like him.

Already, the two were found guilty of kidnapping; Meg being an accessory. The reasoning for the kidnapping; as Meg tried to explain on the stand was that two years after she left Ivan, she married Gilbert; whom she had known since childhood. Within a year of their marriage, they tried to have children but Gilbert turned out to be sterile. The Canadian ended up mentioning to Gilbert about her previous relationship with Ivan, and the baby she had left behind with him. Gilbert ended up flying to Russia; tracked down Ivan, and watched him and Anna over several days. When it seemed safe, he rented a car, lured Anna into it, and drove off. He'd printed fake adoption papers to make it look like he and Meg adopted a child from Russia, but out of paranoia, they never took her to doctors when they saw she was not normal. Upon hearing that information, Ivan looked ready to kill.

But today's decision was based on whether or not they would be charged for child abuse. Ivan's case argued that the Beilschmidts had deliberately avoided taking her to see a doctor, or take care of her in light of her disorder, which could have proved dangerous.

The defense had argued that Gilbert and Meg had parented Anna decently, and that her needs hadn't been neglected, and that the living environment wasn't hazardous. Even Raivis could call that a bullshit argument. And both the Latvian and his father would have gotten up and clocked the lawyer if allowed when the asshole dared to snidely comment that the 'only thing that made Ivan more of a father to Anna than Gilbert was a broken condom'. When that remark was said, Ivan gripped the edge of the table so hard, it almost cracked. Thankfully the judge called out the comment, and had the jury not consider it.

At recess, Ivan went outside. Raivis followed, and saw his father standing on the steps, pulling out a lighter as he lit a cigarette. Raivis stepped beside him, and taking trembling hand, but cool approach, he plucked the carton and lighter out of Ivan's idle hand. The Russian turned to him, and frowned. Raivis looked up and said with brute honesty, "I-I've smoked before."

Ivan didn't look like he was approving of it, but he made no move to stop the boy when he lit the joint. After a few stiff minutes, Ivan murmured, "I pity Meg. If she wanted to see her child so badly, she could have visited. I might have not liked it, but I would have allowed it."

"You took full custody rights of Anna when she was two years old. So they can't argue parental rights for her."

"Exactly. Anyway, they're already guilty of kidnapping, that argument failed, and is now irrelevant."

"Is it illegal to talk about the case outside of court, dad?"

"I am not sure."

Raivis drew a long inhale from the light, and watched the smoke dissapate in the cold air, mingling with the visible breaths.

Ivan gave a smile, "You know, I think today's the day we get her back for good. There's nothing else to deal with after this."

He looked to his son, "Raivis, I'm letting you know ahead of time, things might be different when we come back to Russia. For how long, I will not know. A week; a month; even longer, I do not know. Just bear with me."

"Ok.", he quivered, hands shaky from the irritating cold.

Ivan flicked his burnt out cigarette in the trash can before they walked inside the courthouse again. He then said sternly to Raivis, "I catch you smoking in the house, and you're grounded; understood?"

Raivis couldn't help but smirk.

* * *

Before they knew it, it was over. They won. Both Gil and Meg were guilty; and the judge made it official that Ivan was Anna's sole guardian again.

The moment it became definite was when a doctor who was an autism specialist spoke on behalf of Ivan's case; to confirm Ivan's claims about the danger Anna had potentially been in. This convinced the jury. And this made Ivan happy. But what made Ivan's eyes glitter was the doctor themself; when they had been addressed, and stood on the stand.

He had blonde hair that was rather fringed, reaching almost to the chin; and sharp green eyes. He spoke with a calmness, an air of confidence and seriousness. Ivan hid a grin as the judge dismissed, "Thank you, Doctor Zwingli."

And then outside the courtroom was the social worker with Anna. More tears and hugs. That's all that Raivis could describe. Ivan held onto the girl tightly, not planning to let her go anytime soon.

Arthur caught Ivan by the shoulder and sighed, "I'm so sorry you had to go through all this, I never thought Meg was that kind of person."

Ivan gave a slightly pitying look, "Meg probably isn't a bad person. And her husband might not be either. But I cannot find it in my heart at this time to forgive them. Simple as that."

Arthur nodded, and walked back over to Peter, who was jabbering about how Raivis should have brought his camera in to film the case. The violet eyed boy just stared in contempt at the security guards walking around, trying to figure out which of those bastards stole his baby.

The doctor from the courtroom approached Ivan, and took a long look at him, smiling with a strange sense of nostalgia, "I never figured I'd see you again in this chain of events. I didn't figure I'd see you again at all." He then looked up and down at the Russian, "And I never expected you to be this tall. You were frankly near shorter than Lilli when I last saw you, Ivan."

Ivan gave a small chuckle, "Time flies, Vash- I mean, Doctor Zwingli."

Vash cleared his throat, "I'm also really impressed to know we work in the same field. You...You've learned quite a lot." He then clapped the man on the shoulder, the half-wrinkles of age on his face accentuating more as he smiled. He looked at Anna; the girl that was the center of the case, and then Raivis, the very unique-set teen standing some distance away. "You have a lovely family, Doctor Braginski. I'm glad to see you've taken good care of yourself."

The Russian's eyes glittered kindly, "Same to you."

The Swiss man gave a small bob of the head, and walked down and out of the courthouse.

* * *

It had been three days since they returned home; and a week since the court. And things still were not quieting down.

Day one; as soon as Toris laid eyes on Anastasia, after five years of guilt, he broke into tears. Ivan allowed the brunett to embrace the girl, murmuring words of relief and shock in his native tongue. And that seemed to make things better. He wouldn't have to blame himself for a death that never happened anymore. Ivan spent the evening showing Anna her room. Raivis remained downstairs, reading.

Day two; some news reporters came by, and Ivan closed the door on them, and he went back to watching Anna draw. Raivis was drawing, but in the kitchen.

The door knocked again, and Ivan was about to answer it with a 'we're not interested', thinking it was another newsperson, but to his shock, it was Feliks. He was in a skirt again, but instead of a smug sneer, he looked surprisingly humble. Almost ashamed to be there.

Ivan blinked, and simply greeted, "Yes?"

"Toris told me you found her...that your old girlfriend had her the whole time..."

"Yes.", he nodded, lacking emotion, "All the way in New York."

The Polish man's usually sharp eyes were softer, and the looked down at the ground. He then looked up at Ivan with a truly apologetic, shamed look, "I...I'm so sorry..."

Ivan didn't react a moment, but finally his lips gave a small turn of the corners, "Do not worry about it. She is back home safe, and that's what matters."

Feliks looked ready to cry, happy that Ivan had forgiven him after all the shit he threw at him. After chatting quietly a few more minutes, he left, planning to call Toris, and ask if he had any plans during the weekend.

Raivis watched silently from his window.

Day three; Raivis stayed in his room all day. He knew that Ivan was taking care of Anna. He told him so. So it wasn't any surprise he would be busy. But...

...Raivis wouldn't be lying if he said he was jealous. Since Anna came back, he mostly stood on the sidelines while Ivan re-bonded with his lost child. And frankly, after ten days of no change, it made him anxious. It was a stupid thought; but what if Ivan decided he didn't need Raivis after all? He seemed happy enough with Anna.

These thoughts were plaguing Raivis all afternoon, and evening. He didn't even go downstairs to eat. Ivan didn't call him down for dinner.

It was at least nine-thirty in the evening when there was a knock on the boy's bedroom door. He mumbled, "Come in.", and Ivan slipped in, carrying a bowl, smiling, "I brought you some soup. The kind you like."

"Oh, um, thanks...", he responded, taking the bowl from Ivan. He sat on the edge of his bed, and began to eat. His father plopped down next to him.

"Where's Anna?"

Ivan informed, "I just put her in bed."

"Oh."

Raivis continued to eat the soup until the spoon was audibly hitting the bottom of the bowl, scraping for it. The only sound he could hear then.

"I assume you think I am ignoring you.", Ivan murmured suddenly. Raivis looked up, a little surprised at the comment. He began to open his mouth, stuttering as he tried to think of what to say. But in a minute, Ivan suddenly continued, "And, truthfully, I am."

Raivis could feel a rock growing in his stomach as he heard this, but Ivan sighed, "I know it sounds weird, but this is only temporary. You see, Anna is not used to so much of a change, and I am trying to make this simpler for her. She probably can remember some things from when she lived here, but some things she can't."

He gave a sympathetic smile, "It would have put her on overload if I tried to introduce you into her environment so suddenly."

Raivis understood a little, nodding. He mumbled sorely, denying he was tearing up, "I thought you were just tired of me."

Ivan wrapped his arms around him, murmuring, "No, of course not. I wouldn't ever replace you. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."

The honey-haired teen felt his face get pressed into the other's chest as he hugged him, assuring, "Very soon, things will get a little less scattered and dysfunctional."

Raivis smiled when his dad chuckled, "Besides, I think Anna will be getting impatient about meeting her big brother."


	21. Chapter 21

**So far, this is my longest story on the site. And for those wondering, there is about two more chapters left, and an epilogue. Actually, more like one chapter left, then an epilogue that covers one part, and the second epilogue continues it.**

* * *

It took another three months for everything to seem normal again, but yet it was still all so different. Raivis still felt a little isolated with the lesser amount of time shared with just Ivan, but he didn't feel unwanted. He knew Ivan was doing the best he could, so he did the same to accept it. Things did get a little stressful, and on a few occasions, they even got mad with each other, but nothing a little cooling off couldn't fix. When Raivis finally got to acquaint himself with Anna better, things were definitely much different, but not in a bad way. Already, the Latvian found the girl interesting to watch and communicate with, and to be frank, fairly likable. She was young, like Peter, but silent and thoughtful looking. He could see the resemblance of Ivan in her.

In the time he was getting to know her, occasionally they would sit at the table and draw. Raivis himself wasn't that amazing of an artist; definitely above average, but nothing special. But Anna, for her age, she could draw like Raivis, and possibly even better. The boy gave a humored pout towards his father, "How come she can get the perspective right, but I can't?"

The Russian just shrugged with a chuckle, "Just a delicate eye for the canvas I guess. Just like you have for the film."

Also in this time, the first time in some years, Ivan ended up contacting his sisters.

The first one, the older one visited one day, and the first thing Raivis noticed was her frame. It was rather...big. He prayed she wouldn't hug him too hard or anything.

On the same day, the younger sister visited, and Raivis instantly knew he didn't want to hug her with the icy look she had on her face when he opened the door. Still glaring sternly, she asked immediately with a demanding tone, "Where's Ivan?"

Raivis could feel himself trembling in intimidation, and he shakily pointed inside, "Luh-living room!"

She walked in stiffly, smiling excitedly as she saw her brother chatting happily to their older sibling, who was grinning from ear to ear, looking ready to cry. She hadn't seen her brother in so long, and she hadn't seen him this happy since Anna disappeared. Now that she was back, he seemed almost normal.

Ivan gave a slightly more reserved smile to his younger sister, and patted Raivis on the head, "I don't think either of you have formally met my son, Raivis."

"Oh, did you meet somebody new, Ivan?", smiled his older sister sweetly. Ivan shook his head with a laugh, "No,no, I adopted him about a year ago. We do look similar, don't we though?"

Both sisters nodded, and the scary one calmly quipped, "If you hadn't said he was adopted, I would have said he was a spitting image of you, Vanya."

Raivis gave an awkward laugh, and commented, "I kind of thought the same thing when I first got here."

Anna had been sitting on the older sister, Katyusha's lap, calmly sitting as if she were observing the environment. The woman ruffled her niece's hair, "When you called me, and told me Anastasia was found, I was so happy..." She had helped her brother care for her as an infant, and so she had quite an emotional attachment to her.

Natalia, the younger sister, hadn't much of an attachment to the child back then. She hadn't understood why he changed his mind about keeping the baby, and even more, why he hadn't put her in the care of some bigger family when her autism became clear. But now, the blonde woman was giving the faintest of a smile towards the child.

The three siblings talked amongst themselves for some time, while Raivis kept Anna and himself busy with showing her a book of artwork. It was one of his favorites; M.C. Escher, and the girl; in her own way, looked rather fascinated with the pictures.

At one point, Ivan decided to ask, "Have either of you heard from Father?"

They both remained quiet, and he gave an inquiring look. Katyusha sighed, and said, "He shut himself in his house a couple years ago. He doesn't come out much anymore. I know he's still there, because I asked his neighbor to keep watch over him, and she says she still sees him picking up groceries delivered at the door."

Natalia gave a hopeful smile, "I think you should attempt to reconnect with him, brother."

Ivan looked down at his tea, and shook his head, "I think not."

Neither sister wanted to argue, so nothing more was said on the matter.

Soon, it was growing dark, and Katyusha sighed that it was probably time to leave. Her younger sister's eyes gleamed almost defiantly, as if she would declare that she stay overnight, but Ivan excused, "Raivis has school tomorrow, and I work late on Mondays, so I must rest."

She pouted, but gave an understanding nod. "I will visit you on the next holiday, brother. Or next weekend, or-"

Katyusha nudged her with a laugh, and mouthed to Ivan, 'I'll keep her busy for you!'

The Russian laughed, and bid goodbye to his siblings, and once the house was free of guests, he gave a satisfied smile, "It's nice to catch up on things again."

Raivis looked up from the Escher book, and nodded, "Your sister Natalia is um...v-very straightforward."

"Yes, yes.", he smiled, "Very tenacious."

Anna was still sat next to Raivis, almost latching onto him. She moved her hand over the page, then murmured emotionessly, "Ring ring."

Ivan chimed back with a sweet tone,_ "Hello?"_

She cooed something which made her father chuckle. Raivis looked up, "What did she say?"

"She wants you to turn the page."

* * *

"Did the orphanage ever give you any information regarding biological relatives?", Ivan asked quietly one day.

The lanky teen shook his head, putting his mug of hot drink down, "I don't think they could unless I demanded it, and I never did."

Ivan nodded, and looked at a paper, "The woman who ran it; Mrs. Mendell; just sent you something from your records identifying you have a maternal grandmother."

"...And?"

"Her address is on here."

"...And?"

"I thought we could meet her."

"...How soon?"

"Today..."

"Dad!", exclaimed Raivis with an unamused face. Why the heck would he set him up with an old woman he didn't even know?

Ivan held his hands up in defense, and started, "I just thought maybe she'd have some information about your mother, or might like to know how her potentially long-lost grandson was doing...!"

Raivis rolled his eyes, "You could have asked me first!"

Ivan sighed, "Oh, now don't be difficult. This could be fun, yes?"

"Fun for me, or fun for you to watch me get bombarded with questions?"

"Fun for me.", he grinned, giggling.

Surprisingly, this woman; a Helena Galante; lived only short of an hour away. Not too bad of a distance. The house was pretty easy to find too, it was the one with the bigger-than-life Latvian flag out front. The woman answered the door wearing a thick woolen sweater and skirt, her yellow-gray hair in a mess of curl. She eyed Raivis with a strange look from those owlish eyes behind thick glasses, and then stated as if it were an accusation, "You're my grandson, Raivis."

He hesitantly nodded, and then the woman looked up at Ivan who was smiling politely. She instantly commented, "You better not be putting your crazy Russian views on him! I know what time period you've lived in!"

Ivan sighed, trying to keep the polite expression, "Do not worry, I am taking good care of him. I was only so young when the USSR fell-"

"Don't try to charm me so easily!", she snapped, still opening the door to invite them in. She gestured to Ivan as he walked in, "I've got my eye on you."

They were waiting in the living room while the old woman was making tea, and Raivis raised an eyebrow, whispering "What was that all about?"

Ivan chuckled with embarrassment, "A lot of Latvians were rather resentful of Russians after the Soviet Union split up. Some like her still are."

"Well what is she doing living here if she hates the Russian's guts?"

"A lot of people from the past Soviet countries live here for many reasons. Not everyone likes it though.", he hummed, looking at all the Latvian pride decor, and the newspaper clippings of the USSR falling framed on her walls. He muttered with a chuckle, "This woman needs a new hobby."

"Excuse me?", she called out, teapot whistling.

"Lovely home, Mrs. Galante!", he responded loud enough for her to hear. Raivis nearly bust out laughing.

Helena handed Raivis a tea cup, warning him kindly that it was hot, Anna a cup of juice to be left on the table, and silently handed Ivan a cup of boiling hot tea that was filled to the brim in danger of spilling.

"So I take it you are here for information?"

Raivis shrugged, "I guess that's what you could say."

Helena sat in a rocking chair, and sighed, "It's not too interesting, you'll know. Besides, I don't even know that much."

The boy cocked his head, "Just tell me what you can...?"

Her wrinkled brow furrowed in thought, and she gave a sour look to Ivan, "Is your father forcing you to do this?"

Raivis shook his head, and the woman gave a sigh, "Well, let's see. Your mother was very bad with handling money, so she often lived with me. She liked to take pictures as a hobby."

Raivis felt a twinge of satisfaction knowing he had a connection with his mother in some way. The woman took a sip of her tea and continued, "She was fairly young when she had you, and she was pretty proud as a mother. I was fed up with how she had become pregnant while unmarried, but I let her stay with me."

She picked up a photo frame, looking at it with strangely soft eyes, "You were born here at home, delivered by a midwife. Your mother, Beatrise, was a very paranoid, nervous woman. Always shaking, like you. But worse. Was too afraid to visit a hospital for medications, or to even have her baby there. Too paranoid to take shots, which is why the measles killed her."

She sighed, "As much as I love and miss my daughter, she was quite foolish. You seemed to turn out alright, despite your...unfortunate circumstances now.", she commented, giving a look to Ivan who smiled it off, and looked down at his daughter.

She got up, and passed the picture frame to Raivis, "This is you and your mother when you were a year old."

Soft violet eyes gazed on the picture. A pale, serious looking infant sat in a baby's high-chair, with a smiling blonde woman next to him with a demolished birthday cake. Small pale curls were on his head, and chocolate icing and crumbs spotted by his unsmiling mouth. Tiny purple eyes gazed at the camera with a wide eyed fascination. The woman smiling to the side had light brown hair, shaggy and mid-length, an almost feathery look to it. Her eyes matched the baby's.

Raivis now could confirm to himself that he had been an infant once upon a time, and that he _did_ actually remember what his mother looked like. He put the picture down on the table.

"What about my father?"

Helena looked up, "Hm?"

"My father. My biological father; who was he?"

Just for kicks, he pointed to Ivan, "Did he resemble him at all?"

The old woman looked almost offended at the question, "No, of course not! He's too fat!"

"Hey...", mumbled Ivan sorely, clearly unappreciative of the comment.

"...Who was it then?"

Helena hesitated a moment, then sighed, "I do not know him personally. I know what he looked like though."

She opened a little drawer on the end table next to her chair, and pulled a tiny rectangular paper photo out. She handed it to the boy, informing, "His name was Andris. I never met him. According to Beatrise, he was a man she had met at one of the cafes she was sharing her photos at, and they conversed many times. One night, she said she wasn't going to see him again, and then she ended up carrying you."

Raivis was staring at a tall, slim man wearing a dark jacket, face looking rather sullen, and the lightest of curls. His eyes, to Raivis' shock, were brown. Looking at this man, Andris- this man who imposed his chances of actually accepting fatherhood- looked nothing like Ivan. Ivan was more his father than this man.

He put the photo down without another word, expression calm. Ivan picked up the first picture, and gave a small smile, "You were so cute as a baby, Raivis.", he looked up to Helena, "May we keep this photograph so Raivis can have a baby picture of himself for a keepsake?"

The woman snapped, "You Russians are always trying to rob me!", but at least three seconds later, she turned to Raivis and smiled sweetly, "Would you like to keep this photograph, Raivis?"

He nodded, "Y-Yes, thank you."

She then pointed to the other photo, "You should probably take that one, so you can find your real father."

The Latvian shook his head with a grin, hugging his father, "I don't see why. I already have him."


	22. Chapter 22

"In early December, when the weather gets very cold, this pond will freeze over, and the swans will go someplace warmer."

"I always figured they'd just sit on the frozen top."

"Nyet. In a warmer place, like the southern countries, they can hatch their babies, who fly back with them in the spring."

Raivis gave a nod as he listened to his father chat idly about the pond they were sitting in front of. Raivis had suggested that they pack sandwiches and eat there for lunch. The November weather had made the ground wet, thus the benches were too; but Ivan took plastic bags, and they put them on the bench, sitting on them like mats.

As Ivan was talking though, Raivis seemed to also be distracted. Every five minutes, he seemed to be craning his head back towards the open space of the park ground, looking around. As if he were waiting for somebody. Anna was sitting calmly in his lap, playing with her hands, her sandwich torn in pieces on the ground.

Ivan raised an eyebrow, "Why are you looking behind us so much?"

"Oh, no reason.", excused the boy, "I just feel we're being watched."

Ivan turned his head, and didn't see anything then. He turned back, and smiled, "Don't worry. If anyone is watching us, I'll make sure they aren't harmful."

The Latvian grinned, glad that the Russian fell for his little lie.

In truth, he was waiting for somebody. He had been talking with both of his aunts, who agreed this could possibly help Ivan. But it couldn't be certain; especially with the circumstances. But it was worth a try. And this was in a public place, so nothing too terrible could happen.

Ivan finished his sandwich, crumpling the plastic in his hands and putting it in his pocket, "The weather is kind of nice like this. It's cold, but it's clearer conditions."

The boy nodded, eyes glued to the lake, and the swan couple on the left edge of it.

"Ivan?"

The Russian turned to the direction of the voice, on the left-hand side of him. And his expression dropped, face becoming completely blank.

The resemblance between the Russian, and the older man was pretty remarkable. The same build, same posture, same nose. But still, the elder was much different looking, as unlike Ivan, everything about him seemed gray. From his eyes, to his hair; his mustache, his coat, heck even his skin. It all looked gray and cold. But the eyes looked different. They didn't look completely cold. More nervous; unwilling.

And as soon as Ivan's gaze met the other's, it looked equally nervous. He licked his dry lips, speaking quietly, with a lack of known emotion, "It's you again."

The old man's expression didn't change any as he bobbed his head.

"What are you doing here?", asked Ivan, but not as accusatory as one might think.

The man blinked, taking a breath before he spoke, "Your boy asked me to see you."

_Crap, he wasn't supposed to say that!_ Raivis had called the old man, who responded very gruffly on the phone that 'whatever the hell he was selling, he didn't want it.', and he demanded that Raivis go away. But as soon as the boy mentioned Ivan, he seemed to listen, almost hopefully.

Ivan turned to Raivis with a look of shock, and eyes that read, _why? Why would you do something like that?_, but he turned back to face the other, leaving Raivis to tremble.

The old man slowly walked closer, "You...you've grown, Ivan."

Ivan nodded a moment, gaze still frozen. He looked like he wanted to get up, and leave, but something inside him told him to stay.

After a few minutes of absolute silence, and staring, Ivan _did_ actually get up. But he didn't leave. More so, he got up, and stood closer to the man he once called "Father". Calling him "Papa" was of days long gone, when he was too innocent. The two both turned to face the pond, talking in Russian, so their conversation was deaf to Raivis' ears.

And for three whole hours, it was this way. Both men were talking in Russian, too quietly and quickly. Occasionally, the tone of voice was different, like a tone of remorse, or contempt, or even reminiscence. But neither voice was raised, and neither sounded like it was laced with hate.

Raivis decided to let them be after one hour, and took Anna by the hand; roaming around the open area to take pictures. When he came back much later, both men were still talking. At one point, he saw his father gesture to him, pointing at him and Anna with a small smile on his face. And the Russian's father gave a tiny nod, murmuring something.

After an even longer time, the two looked like they were done talking. But before they did, the old man hesitantly, reached his arms over, and pulled his son into an awkward embrace. It was very short, and Ivan didn't seem to react too much, but he didn't look overly rigid. He mostly just looked overwhelmed, and he made no move to raise his arms to reciprocate the hug. But the old man didn't seem to mind, just holding him there, face screwed shut; almost pained, as if he was trying to release the pain of ten whole years. Ivan then blinked, raising an arm to lightly pat his father on the back.

When he let go, he reached into his coat, and pulled out a bound notebook; overused and worn, thick with pages. He handed it to Ivan, who tucked it under his arm. The old man turned to look at the pond again, and Ivan turned back to Raivis, a weary look on his face. He gave a tiny smile, "Let's go home..."

* * *

They drove home in silence, and as Ivan was fumbling with his keys to unlock the front door, Raivis spoke up, "So...?'

Ivan turned to him, and said almost instantly, "If things hadn't gone better than what I might have expected from something like that; you'd be grounded right now."

The Latvian raised an eyebrow, "So does that mean things are better between you and him?"

Ivan opened the door, sighing, "Not completely. But at least he'll feel better enough not to be such a recluse anymore."

He rubbed Raivis on the head, "So I guess it's safe to say 'thank you'."

Raivis smiled a little, and went into the living room while his father went in the kitchen to make dinner; but not before leaving the thick notebook on the coffee table.

Being naturally curious, and the tinest bit nosy; Raivis plopped on the couch, and slid the book to the edge of the table. He flipped the cover over, to see the first page.

Newspaper articles had been clipped out, and taped. It was all in Russian, but Raivis did his best to translate bits and pieces of it. A bit of scanning, and he could read that Ivan's name was in each article. They were all probably based on different things; ranging from Ivan's job, to whatever else. One of the articles stuck out, as it included a picture. It showed Ivan, a bit younger looking, slumped onto his knees, one hand on his face, which was crumpled in emotion and horror, with Toris kneeling next to him, comforting him. Police and crowding was seen in the background, and a caption under the photo could be translated as, _Psychologist Ivan Braginski is comforted by family friend Toris Lorinatis as he is informed his daughter, Anastasia Braginskaya, has been abducted._ Raivis could feel his throat tighten, almost being able to feel the horrendous pain Ivan had. The poor man really had suffered a lot then. Not wanting to look at the picture anymore, Raivis flipped the page.

Instead of articles, it was multiple lines of writing. Raivis translated it the best he could, and it came out as repetitive lines that read,

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter disappeared today. Bring her back to my son safely._

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter disappeared yesterday. Bring her back to my son safely._

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter has disappeared. Bring her back to my son safely._

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter has disappeared. Bring her back to my son safely._

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter has disappeared. Bring her back to my son safely._

It went on for many pages, repeating until there was a different line.

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter disappeared a year ago. Bring her back to my son safely._

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter has disappeared. Bring her back to my son safely._

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter has disappeared. Bring her back to my son safely._

It went through almost all the pages, only changing to mark a year. Suddenly, the last one read,

_Dear God,_

_My granddaughter was found safe. I hope my son is happy again._

Raivis gazed at the book in awe. The old man had done this every day, writing a prayer each day for Anna. It was almost touching, in a weird way. This man who had driven Ivan off, and made him feel unloved; he had done something to prove he still had a heart. He was willing to pray for his son's happiness, even if it would make his own dwindle.

The last page of the book had a longer note. Raivis could hardly understand it, but judging by everything else, Ivan might have liked it. He closed the book with a small smile, and went to help his dad with dinner.

* * *

_Ivan,_

_I understand why you are angry with me; I won't blame you for it. I just want to explain why I treated you as I did._

_I never liked who I was, and I didn't want my offspring becoming like me. I was most worried about you, because you were my only son. I was afraid if I showed affection to you, you'd try to become like me when you grew up. I knew it hurt you, but I couldn't bring myself to understand how wrong it was of me, and stop it._

_The truth is, I loved you very much, Ivan. I was extremely proud of your achievements, I just didn't know how to show it. Because I thought if I let you know that I loved you, you'd look up to me. I didn't want to be someone who was looked up to._

_That afternoon you went to your room in tears over the assignment you showed me, I felt awful. But I didn't know what to do about it. So I had your sister give you the scarf she made for you. She had been saving it for your birthday, but I told her to give it to you then, so you'd feel better._

_I had been frustrated when you left, because I had done very similar things at that age; bitter and rebellious. I should have figured it would have happened, since you probably had enough of my treatment, but I was too stubborn to admit it._

_I am sorry for the pain and self hate I might have inflicted on you as a child. I never was able to be as soft or gentle as your mother was, and I felt I had failed as a parent when she was gone, and you had turned to me for consolation, yet I had none to give._

_I heard you found your daughter. They had her picture in the news; she's a beautiful child, Ivan. I hope you are raising her well. And I know that you are giving her the love I failed to give you._

_Papa_

* * *

**So, um, wow...bittersweets there. **

**I guess I should let you guys know that the next chapter is the last chapter-chapter, but after that is an epilogue chapter which will either be longer or shorter depending on how passionate I feel about it. **

**Thanks guys!**


	23. Chapter 23

Christmastime came around soon, Raivis had observed. And things here were always different. For one, they didn't celebrate on the 25th of December, rather the 7th of January. And nobody said 'Merry Christmas' to each other. More like some garbled cheerful sounding phrase. The first year he came here, he didn't celebrate Christmas like he would. He didn't want to trouble Ivan over it. So the Russian simply prepared the house for the different celebration, putting gold ornaments and painted leaves everywhere. And dried cinnamon and cloves sat in wooden bowls. The house smelled of it for days. That January 7th, he took Raivis out that night to see the town decorated, and bought a loaf of some sweet roll with nuts and dried fruit in it. Whatever it was, it tasted good. Like a less-crappy version of fruitcake. It was snowing out, and Ivan insisted on taking a picture of Raivis in front of the lit up 'Winter Palace'.

This year was different though, as one morning, Ivan chirped as he was heating some water for tea, "We should get a Christmas tree today!"

Raivis looked up from his toast, a confused look, "I thought you didn't get Christmas trees for the holiday..."

Ivan smiled, "I was thinking I could try something new this year. We could celebrate your Christmas along with mine."

The boy gave a nod, giving a bit of a pleased look, "I think that would be kind of fun...But there's no place to buy a tree."

Ivan nearly dropped the tea kettle, "Buying a Christmas tree? Th-that's blasphemy!", he exclaimed with a good humored grin. He shook his head, "No,no, Raivis, we're going to walk out into the woods and get one."

"Isn't that illegal?"

Ivan shrugged, "I don't think so. Besides, it's fairly quiet out there, nobody would find out."

Raivis looked out the window, seeing the snow pounding down mercilessly, covering the ground in a blanket of blinding white. He looked back to his dad with a gaze of shock, "We're going out THERE?"

The violet eyed man chuckled, "It's not as bad as it seems."

_Like frostbite is not as bad as death, yeah, sure!_

Nevertheless, Ivan took Raivis out into the nearby woods for such a merry mission. Toris was watching Anna, considering telling Ivan that dragging Raivis out into the snow like that was a bad idea.

And at first, Ivan did not agree. His son was lumbering behind him at a steady pace, and was only shaking a little. And all the fluffy snow drowned out the sound, so he couldn't hear any complaints.

"Dad, I can't feel my legs."

"I quite enjoy the snow when it's pure like this, don't you?"

"Dad, I can't feel my arms."

"The trees in this forest keep their needles year round!"

"_Dad_, I can't feel my _hips!_"

Ivan still could not hear Raivis, nor did he initially think to turn around and check on him. After about thirty minutes of walking in the woods, he turned around to talk to the boy, only to see him slumped in a miserable heap thirty feet back. He hurried back over, and picked him up like a sack of potatoes, "You're absolutely shivering! Why didn't you say anything?"

Raivis wanted to put his hand to his face in despair, but it was too frozen. Ivan then placed him back down gently, taking off one of his thick coats (glad he was wearing extra), and put it on Raivis. He held onto the boy gently for a while, "We'll just warm you up a bit, and then we'll keep walking. We'll find a good tree soon."

The boy just nodded, teeth chattering as he felt the chill of the cold starting to go away, and he wasn't feeling numb as much anymore. He looked past his father's arm, and pointed excitedly to a tree, "O-over thu-there!"

Ivan took a glance to the clearing, and saw a mid-size fir tree sitting under the branches of a giant one. He smiled a little, looking at it, "It looks nice from here."

And indeed it was a nice tree. Deciding upon this one, Ivan helped Raivis up, and he used a saw to cut the tree down, falling with a thump in the snow. He ended up dragging it back home, while keeping Raivis close by him. When they finally got it home, the boy ran up to the bathroom, and filled the tub with hot water, shouting to his father, "Next time I'll make you get a plastic tree!"

Ivan chuckled as he sipped on his tea in the living room, admiring the natural beauty of the tree set up in the corner. He looked out the window at the snow, knowing both he and Raivis could agree it was nicer to look at from inside.

The morning of the 25th, there was a couple presents under the tree. Raivis managed to buy a nice scarf for Ivan, and a sketchpad for Anna with colored pencils. He had wrapped them himself (which is why the paper looked so uneven and poorly taped together), and attempted to put ribbon on them, but the best he could make with the purple strands was square knots.

Ivan grinned, sitting on the couch with Anna, "Merry early Christmas!"

The boy grinned, giving a small laugh, "Oh yeah, it's early for you now. Happy first early Christmas to you then!"

The Russian chuckled, rubbing Anna's head as she ripped at her present's wrapping. Ivan pointed to the skirt of the tree, "There's a present for you under there too. The one with the sunflowers on it."

Raivis raised his eyebrows, and sauntered over to the tree, kneeling down to check underneath. He pulled out a long cylinder wrapped with the brown floral print paper, and ripped off the paper to find a cardboard tube, used for packages.

Curiously, he opened the top, and slid out the rolled up paper tube. He unraveled it carefully, and his eyes went wide.

It was a new Kubrick poster, looking just like the one Raivis had ripped and disposed of that one day. But in the lower corner was a signature of the man himself. It wasn't fake, this was a real autograph. So this thing was pretty aged, but it looked brand new. Must have been taken good care of. Raivis wouldn't ask how Ivan got a hold of this thing; heck he didn't even care. He looked up to Ivan and beamed, "This is great! Thanks Dad!"

Ivan gave a pleasant grin, and scooted himself and Anna over on the couch so Raivis could sit down with them. The honey-haired boy flopped down in his sky blue pajama bottoms and t-shirt that had the logo of the Russian space program on it. He glanced up to Ivan who was enjoying the sight of the decorated tree, "Next year, I can buy some ornaments from New York that are metal, so they don't break like the glass ones." He remembered the mini-fit Ivan had when that glass bauble bounced off the tree and shattered on the carpet, it was so hollow and dense.

Ivan chuckled, "I suppose so. My ornaments might be nice, but they're too fragile and flimsy to be placed on a tree."

The boy nodded, and reached to a plate on the coffee table, "But these little nut cookies you made are pretty good."

Ivan swatted his hand, "No eating anymore, I'm making breakfast as soon as I'm done looking at the tree."

"So by tonight?", Raivis grinned smugly.

"Ha. Ha.", he replied, rolling his eyes. After a few more minutes, he gave a soft giggle as he put an arm around each of his children, pulling them to his side for a hug. It was so nice to spend a holiday like this together.

_Merry Christmas, little ones._

* * *

3 YEARS LATER

Ivan's rickety old car parked into the airport lot, and the Russian helped carry one of the hulking suitcases for Raivis. The teen was already carrying his satchel, a backpack, a rollaway tote, and a large suitcase. The walk from the car was silent, and the wait to check baggage was even quieter as well. And it bothered Raivis.

He wanted to be able to say something to his father before he left. Not just a simple goodbye. But nothing was coming to mind.

But still, he wanted conversation. He awkwardly laughed, "You-you're not going to start crying, are you, dad?"

Ivan glanced to him, then gave a tiny smile, shaking his head, "I'll cry when I get home."

Raivis gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back. He knew that this would be a bit of a difficult transition for the both of them, to travel so far away for so long. But it would be beneficial. The Latvian was overjoyed to have been accepted to his first pick of colleges, a film school in New York, forty minutes from where he once lived. Peter was going to stalk him every weekend, he knew it.

This last week had been a little stressful, packing everything, and trying to roam to all his favorite places in town while saying goodbye. Eduard was already in England studying computers, and Matthias was going to Norway. It was a bit of a sore deal, knowing he wouldn't see his old friends there, but he hoped he might be a little less skittish now and make newer friends in college.

When baggage was checked, and they walked slowly towards security, Ivan mused, "You've grown up so well, Raivis. I can't believe all this time has passed this quickly."

"I...I can't either. Five years already."

"Yes...and now you're grown up...and going off to college. I feel old."

Raivis laughed a little, patting Ivan on the back again, "You've still got Anna."

"Now I feel even older, thanks.", he smirked, still walking. He slowed down in his steps, stopping in the middle of the floor as he saw the security line.

He turned to the teen, and softly sighed, "This is where we have to say goodbye. Do you have all your stuff in your satchel?"

Raivis nodded, and Ivan smiled, "Good. You'll be fine. You're talented and smart, and I know you'll succeed. You're going to make everyone back here so proud of you; I'm so proud of you, I-"

He was cut off by the boy grabbing him in a bearhug. Raivis pressed his face into Ivan's sweater, trying to deny the fact he was crying, "I love you, Dad."

Ivan smiled, his own eyes watering a little before he blinked it away, and hugged his son, ruffling his wiry hair comfortingly, "I love you too. Thank you for giving me the chance to watch you grow up."

Raivis let go, and nodded, sniffling a bit, his face red. Ivan put a hand on his shoulder, "Now, no more tears. You have a plane to catch."

Giving him one last hug, lasting over seven seconds, Raivis gave a small nod to Ivan, and walked off to the security gate, looking back one last time before he passed through the archway. Ivan was still standing there, his violet eyes overflowing with tears, but he was still smiling.

_You liar._, Raivis smiled to himself, _You said you would cry at home._

But then again, Russia in general was Ivan's home. In fact, this whole world was a home they shared. They both had different perspectives of it, and they touched each other's own, to see the world differently.

* * *

**Ok, so honestly, I cried a little writing the end, because it makes me think about how my twin brother is going off to college next fall, and I'll most likely be taking a gap year, or going off to animation college. It makes me think about my mom too...**

**But anyway, this was the last chapter; so next up is the epilogue. Beware, things are going to be a little more bittersweet in it, and a little odd. But it'll be good, I promise!**


	24. Epilogue

**THIRTY YEARS LATER**

The river below was a cloudy dark color, probably thanks to all the unclean things dumped into it, but still, it was quite a sight, the Russian had to admit. Every year, it was always bustling with the traffic of ships, and seabirds circling around. From the bridge where he stood above, it made things smaller, so everything must have been even bigger.

The gray clouds of winter accentuated the age in Ivan's once blond hair, leaving nothing but silver behind. His hands were lined with age, leather gloves slipped over them, hiding the weathered skin. Still, he looked fairly young, he was only about sixty now. But inside, he felt so old. Raivis was already sporting a few gray hairs himself, well into his late forties. People still gave him surprised looks when he told them Raivis was his son, not his brother or work colleague. It was only when the Russian donned his spectacles, cane, and gloveless hands that they actually believed he was that old. Besides Raivis' aging, Ivan was already a grandfather; Raivis' boy born eight years ago. Traveling in France while finding inspiration for films, the Latvian met some lovely girl from there, and ended up trying to learn the language for both his film's purposes, and to talk to her. Married her five years later in Nice, France, moving to New York. Ivan had great fun teasing his son gently about his lady, while the woman, Francoise found the old Russian to be quite charming, and the boy; Anselme was quite attatched to his grandfather.

Ivan was visiting his son's hometown for his birthday this week, and took some time to observe the city. Anna was back in Russia, making a living by selling artwork while living in an independent living facility for the severely autistic. He visited her every other day. She was happy, he could tell.

A blonde woman passed by Ivan as he looked over the bridge, he thought very little of it. Until he caught her climbing up onto the railing from the corner of his eye. She was going to jump. Key word being 'was', as Ivan jumped into action, calling out, "What are you doing?"

She choked with a hitched breath, "P-please leave me alone."

"You're not thinking of jumping, are y-"

He got a closer look at the woman, his violet eyes meeting with her own. Her face was aged, with weariness, and her hair was no longer as radiant, but he could recognize her.

"Meg?", he recalled in disbelief. She stared at him in what looked like horror, as she turned to face the water again, preparing to fling herself over the bridge. Ivan instantly called out, "No, no, no!", and took her by the waist, pulling her off the railing. She was shrieking bloody murder, screaming, "Let me go! Just let me go!"

He pulled her away from the water as she hysterically sobbed, "Why can't you just let me go! I want to die!"

"M-Meg, calm down please."

The woman was still sobbing, weakly writhing to get out of his strong, but gentle grasp. She dropped to her knees as she wailed, and the Russian was left with only the option to bend down to her level, and try and calm her.

"I want to die...Just let me die...", she groaned, tears still running down her face. Ivan felt a small twinge of pity. Sounded like she'd just lost it. He'd almost forgotten how many years she was sentenced to. Twenty-five? He couldn't remember, his darn memory.

He held her gently, not out of any romantic remnants of feeling, but purely out of pity, and to make sure she wouldn't try to run again. He spoke gently, "Meg...?...Meg. Can you...Mauguerite?"

She was beginning to quiet down, but she was still blubbering words that made Ivan feel even sorrier for her. He looked around to see if anyone was there, and finding nobody, he turned to her, "Mauguerite, I'm going to take you home, ok?"

"D-don't got a home...", she murmured much like a child, slightly rocking in place. Ivan took notice of something on her wrist. A hopsital bracelet. Taking a closer look, he read the text; Mauguerite Beilschmidt, Age: 59, Ward: Acute.

A mental hospital.

Ivan felt even more pity seeping into his heart for his former lover, and mother of his child. This was what she was reduced to? He sighed, dialing the number on the bracelet with his phone, and hailed a taxi, keeping a firm, but gentle hold on Meg as he directed the cab driver to the mental hospital fifteen blocks away.

Meg was returned to a room with a bed, lamp, and art canvases. Some had paintings on them, they were quite beautiful. It didn't take Ivan a second to recognize them as the Canadian's.

The aide spoke apologetically, "Meg's been in here for at least three weeks, and she's still not adjusting well. She's still not ready to go out again it looks like. We're hoping she'll get better soon."

The Russian nodded, and went over to the sleeping woman. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead as she slept soundly on the bed; much like he would to a child.

_Poor Meg. I hope she gets better soon._, he thought to himself as he left the acute ward. Acute meant that they could be cured maybe. He kind of hoped she would, so she could live a little normally.

He never saw Meg again.

* * *

**TEN YEARS LATER**

"So you won the award?"

"Nominated.", grinned Raivis proudly, as he was telling Peter the status of the film he made last year, "It lost to a rom-com, but I think it gave the other competitors a run for their money."

"So what about this one? What has it won?"

"Nothing yet.", he smirked, "This is its first public showing. I've only shown one person."

"Francoise?"

"No, my dad. I finished it four months ago."

"Oh.", nodded the slightly graying blond. Since graduating from college, Peter had been pretty successful with making and selling sailboats by the beach. A good living, a fun one. Raivis visited often, the beach was a nice place for inspiration.

"He liked it a lot.", the Latvian smiled conservatively, then shifting his attention to Eduard who was congratulating him on his film, flying over from the English software company to see it premiere at the festival. Matthias was standing in the back of the seats facing the screen, ready to leap and cheer when Raivis' film came up.

An aged Arthur sat in the third row keeping Peter's seat safe with his cane. Feliks was sitting behind them, chatting on his cell phone, the same flambouyance in his voice from when he was a young man. Toris...Toris wasn't there. Three years ago, a brain tumor took him too suddenly. A tragic loss; Ivan and Feliks cried together at the funeral. If he were there, he'd have loved this film.

In the past years, for at least the last fifteen consecutive festivals, a seat in the front, next to the aisle was reserved for Ivan. If one got on the stage, they could expect to see the aged Russian peering up at them with owlish spectacles on, sitting comfortably in his seat as he smiled softly. The kind old film connoisseur some considered him. But truly, he was Raivis' number one fan. Which was why the boy was going to be feeling the smallest bit of dampness when he got up on the stage.

The chair was empty this year. Raivis still couldn't believe it had already been three months. He actually hadn't expected this to happen so soon either. Ivan was still thriving it seemed, he'd barely turned seventy-three. But alas, life was not fair, and it was cruel. The reasoning seemed logical; something wrong with his heart. But it just didn't seem _real_.

_"Hey Dad, how are you feeling?", the man smiled as he entered his father's room, a disc in his hand._

_"I'm fine, Raivis.", the old man smiled weakly, trying to sit up. The Latvian caught him by the shoulder gently, "You don't need to sit up, I'm sitting right here, ok?"_

_"Well, I probably need a little air in my lungs, this room is quite stuffy.", he sighed, easing back down again. Poor man, he knew he could go at any time, but he wanted to stay long enough for Raivis to do as he wished. He blinked heavily, letting out a breath through his nose as it became a little more difficult to breathe._

_Raivis opened the nearest window a bit, "There we go.", he smiled, sitting back down to pull his laptop out of its case. Ivan turned his head, to try and see what he was doing, but Raivis held his hand up. He grinned, "I want to show you something."_

_"Oh?", he smiled a little, scooting up on the bed a little bit, so at least his head and neck were elevated, and looking forward._

_"My latest film. I just finished it.", smiled the man, scratching at his prickly stubbled chin. He put the disc in the tray that protruded from the laptop, and pushed it in, further explaining, "I call it 'Hive'. It's about a business man who works in an office similar to how bees work in beehives. They're all wearing striped ties, in honeycomb shaped cubicles, and their boss has a crown, and wears stripes. And the music is that 'Bumblebee' piece you played on the piano once."_

_Ivan gave a weak chuckle of amusement, "Really now. Well this is something I will have to see."_

_"World premiere.", grinned Raivis, as he gave his father his glasses, and the laptop in front of him._

_As the film played, instead of watching it, Raivis watched Ivan. The man seemed like he was desperately trying to keep his eyes open, too weak and tired, and he kept focused on the film, weakly smiling. Raivis gently put his hand on his father's shoulder, "H-hey, if you're tired, I can pause the film for a while."_

_Ivan shook his head, murmuring, "I want to watch it, it's very interesting."_

_The whole film ran on for seven minutes, and when it was done, Raivis turned off the laptop, and took off his father's glasses, setting them on the nighttable, "So what did you think?"_

_"Buh-best film of yours. You...you really let yourself go free with it.", he chuckled weakly, beginning to let his strength slip away. Raivis nodded, and smiled as he mused, "I really had fun with this one, because it was something that I knew would make everyone laugh and still be composed."_

_"Perfect.", he barely whispered, closing his eyes as he began to drift into unconsciousness, but not without saying, "I love you, Raivis."_

_The younger man gently tapped his shoulder, "Hey Dad...Dad?..."_

_The old Russian didn't respond, eyes closed in sleep one last time. Raivis sadly murmured, "Dad...", he kissed the old man's forehead, "I love you too."_

_Ivan was gone from the world within an hour, same expression as he slept. Raivis surprisingly did not weep then, knowing his father was in a better place. With all the good things Ivan had done, and all the bad things that had ever happened to him, he deserved peace._

_But alas, the Latvian finally broke at the funeral, his wife and son comforting him gently. Anna was at the funeral too, murmuring words that sounded solemn. 'Papa in heaven. Tell me so.'_

Raivis grinned coolly as his name was announced, to introduce his film to the audience. As he got up on stage, an elderly woman entered the theater, once blonde hair still in pigtails, looking around shyly, almost shamefully for a seat. An empty seat next to Francoise, the French woman smiled at the elder Canadian, patting the seat gently. The aged woman gave a grateful, almost relieved smile, indigo eyes sparkling, happy that someone could show her kindness again, even with all she'd done. Humbly, and quietly, without further notice by the audience, she took her seat.

The Latvian stepped up to the mic, his gray freckled blonde hair accentuated in the spotlight along with his age-weary face. He gave a wistful smile, softly speaking, "I'd like to dedicate this film to my father, Ivan Braginski, who passed away earlier this year."

A few audience members smiled gently, polite claps audible. The filmmaker then grinned, "I made this film as a reason to become looser, and just make it to be known that filmmaking is the most fun thing I can think of."

He then stepped back from the mic, and headed back down to the filmmaker's chairs.

_They might not ever understand my work, but I can at least have fun with it. I guess that's what life's about. Ivan had fun; we had fun together. I can still have fun._

Stopping on the steps between the platform and the floor, he turned to the projector booth, staring into the spotlight like all the spirits of heaven's watchful faces, and he grinned wildly, pointing to the upper level,

"Roll 'em!"

* * *

**And this concludes 'Peer Into My World'. I want to thank everyone who followed me through this story, and who offered me help, feedback, and support. I'd like to specifically thank Metaknight4ever for her feedback, and watchful eye in case of my errors, as well as offering to publicise this tale.**

**I'm kind of sad this story's ended, but that means I can make new ones too. I plan to write some drabbles and oneshots in the future, so please keep an eye out for me! **

**I love you all very much, and God bless. **

**Purply**


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